Spiced Molasses
by MonDieu666
Summary: Hershel Greene has kept a secret from his family. When his past catches up with him, the entire family is torn apart. Separated and hunted, justice must come second to surviving. AU.
1. Chapter 1

It was summer. The air was sticky with humidity and the sweetness of fresh fruit. It was Beth's favourite time of year. Her blond hair brightened in the consistent sunshine and her lean limbs took on a golden hue. It was all about barbeques and swimming and long rides through the countryside. Best of all, she wasn't the only child in the house. Her older siblings Shawn and Maggie had come back home from college. Her father was a kind, gentle soul and her step mother was the only mother she had ever known, coming into Beth's life when she was only a young child. Beth loved them dearly but she missed the hum and energy of the house when it was full.

"Beth, you lazy thing, quit texting and get down here and help with dinner." Maggie's voice rang up the stairs and Beth made a face at the wall even though Maggie couldn't see her. She stashed her phone which she _had_ been using to text and ran down the stairs.

Maggie shot her a cheeky grin from the kitchen. Not seeing each other for most of the year, she managed to pack a lot of teasing into a few short months.

"You can't give me a hard time when Shawn has barely looked up from his phone," Beth griped good naturedly.

"Probably a girl," Maggie cooed.

A hand appeared on top of the couch and then a head popper up. "What'ya saying?" Shawn demanded, brown hair sticking up in different directions.

"Children, behave." The instruction drifted out of the kitchen along with the smells of a delicious roast meal.

"Yes, ma," the three of them chorused.

"I'm gonna go help before you two get me in trouble," Beth sniffed.

Maggie snorted and draped an arm around Beth's shoulder. "That's what we're supposed to do."

Shawn's cell beeped from the coffee table. The two girls laughed and Shawn blushed.

"Bethy, come take this to the table," Annette called. Beth poked her tongue out at her siblings before darting out of the room.

"How's that to behave now that you're eighteen?" Shawn questioned as she disappeared.

Annette brushed Beth's cheek as she entered the steamy kitchen. Beth inhaled the familiar scent of her home and moved easily around her mother. It was like a dance they had performed so often that they could do it blind folded. Even without looking they knew where the other one would be.

Beth heard the front door go and the heavy footsteps of her father. She heard mumbled conversation as he greeted the other two. Then he was in the kitchen.

"Hi daddy," Beth said.

"How are two of my favourite girls?" he asked, pressing a quick kiss to Beth's forehead before turning to embrace Annette.

"How did things got with Otis and Patricia?" Annette asked.

"Scarlet did just fine. They have a lovely, healthy foal."

Beth grinned at the idea of one more baby animal in the world. Her father tried to reach over Annette to pinch some of the potatoes but his hand was playfully slapped away.

"Alright," Annette called, "all hands on deck."

Everyone grabbed a plate and took it to the dining table.

They all held hands across the table for grace. "For what we're about to receive, may the Lord makes us truly grateful," Hershel said and then he looked around at his children. "And bless my family."

Shawn had his plate half loaded before Maggie and Beth had even dropped hands.

"Even if patience isn't one of their virtues," Hershel said dryly.

Beth stifled a giggle with her hands. She was looking forward to a relaxed summer with her family and friends. She had graduated from high school that year and college was the next step. She loved the small town of Senoia but she was looking forward to bigger and more exciting things. She had a boyfriend for the first time ever and she was looking forward to lazy days full of shy kisses.

She noticed her father was watching them all wistfully while Annette and Maggie discussed a book they'd both read. Beth curled her smaller hands around his large one.

"You ok, Daddy?"

Hershel smiled. "Just fine, sweetheart. Just thinking how nice this is."

"It's good to have everyone at the same table again," Beth agreed.

"What else could a man want but a simple life and a healthy family?"

...

Beth didn't know what had woken her but some instinct drove her upright in the middle of the night. A figure hovered over in the inky blackness of her room and Beth opened her mouth to scream. A hand covered her mouth.

"It's just me, Bethy. I need you to get up and stay calm." It was her father, speaking low and urgently.

"What's happening?"

"No time for questions." There was a cell phone in Hershel's hand and he pressed it to his ear. "I'm still here. Put me through to Grimes."

Her father was talking in a way she had never heard before, authoritative and terse.

Her mother appeared in the doorway with Maggie and Shawn, both of them in their pyjamas looking dazed but wearing shoes.

There were the sounds of cars outside and Hershel went very still. Annette's face was horrified and even though Beth didn't understand what was happening, she was terrified too.

"Grimes? It's too late. You're right, he's here. There's no time. I'll have to deal with this."

For the first time Beth noticed that there was a gun tucked into the waistband of his pants. It wasn't the shot gun he used around the farm to scare off predators. It was a sleek, modern thing.

"What's going on, Daddy?" Maggie asked, an edge in her voice.

Hershel grabbed Shawn and held his eyes. "You get your sisters upstairs in the attic. You pull the stairs up and don't come down until the police get here."

Shawn opened his mouth to ask questions but Hershel shouted, "Go!"

Shawn nodded and grabbed Maggie's wrist and gestured at Beth. "C'mon on Bethy, you heard dad."

Beth was rooted to the spot. She wanted to grab her parents and hold on to them. She had a terrible feeling and knew that if they stepped out the door then that would be it.

"I love you, darling but you have to go," Annette said, pushing Beth towards her brother, tears streaming down her face.

"No," Beth said finding her voice. "I don't want to leave you!"

"Shawn," Hershel roared. Strong arms wrapped around her waist and Beth was lifted off her feet. She was dragged up the stairs, gasping as she fought to get enough air to scream or cry.

Maggie helped carry her up the stairs and her shoulders were shaking too. Shawn pulled the stairs back up behind them and then all three rushed to the window.

There were three big black cars and all of them had lights shining on the house. A tall man got out of one of the cars. He looked strong and his stance was confident. His eyes ghosted over the house and when they landed on the attic window, Beth shrank away, even though he wouldn't be able to see them in the dark. From that distance Beth could still feel the icy coldness of his stare. She noted that he only had one eye, the other covered with a black patch. His coat billowed in the evening air and she saw a gun under the line of his jacket.

The man stopped looking up and Beth realised both her parents had come down the porch. Men swarmed them and they were pushed onto their knees. Maggie's hand closed around Beth's fingers, squeezing so tight that Beth knew her bones would be sliding together but she couldn't feel any pain.

Shawn's hand was pressed against the glass and he was mumbling, "No, no, no," over and over.

"What's he doing? Who is that?" Maggie asked hysterically.

Beth couldn't speak, she could only watch. Her mother had something clasped in her hand and Beth guessed it was her rosary beads. A single tear slipped down her face.

They were speaking down there but there was no way to hear what was being said. Beth was struggling to breathe as her pulse leapt wildly in her throat. The man pulled out a sword and a silence descended on the attic. Beth's skin felt icy.

"We have to do something," Shawn hissed, pushing to his feet.

Beth barely registered his words, her father was looking over his shoulder, seemingly gazing right into her eyes and keeping her in place. He smiled peacefully, the sword came down in a hard arch and Beth was screaming.

Shawn pounded his fist against the glass in fury and grief. Maggie shifted where she sat so her back was to the window and she curled up into a ball. Hershel's body fell to the side, head still grotesquely attached.

This time the man heard them and was unquestionably staring at the window. He took up a stance behind Beth's mother and the screams died on her lips. Her mother's head was bent over the beads in her hand and her mouth was moving fast, saying her final prayers.

The sword came down cleanly and just like that Beth was an orphan. She staggered away from the window, away from her siblings and threw up. Her last family dinner was now on the floor amongst the dust.

"We have to go," Shawn was saying. "We have to get out!"

His words resonated with Maggie after a few minutes of blankness. Her eyes drifted to Beth and her resolve came back. She pushed herself to her feet.

"We get out and make for the stable," Shawn kept planning. His eyes were red and shining with unshed tears. His next words were cut off by the sounds of sirens. Shawn raced back to the window.

"The police!" he exclaimed. Beth managed to stumble back to the window, feeling the whole word shifting back and forward under her feet. Shawn was exaggerating. It wasn't just the police; it was an army of cars, flashing lights and sirens.

The man with the eye patch glanced back up at the small attic window and grinned before getting into the cars and driving off.

Shawn gently tugged Beth to her feet, winding an arm around her waist. "It's alright, Bethy. It's going to be alright."

Beth wished she could believe him but how could anything be alright again when both her parents were dead on the front lawn, killed by a madman for a reason Beth couldn't even fathom.

Shawn helped Beth out of the attic and Maggie followed behind in a daze. Beth's cheeks were wet and she was aware she was crying.

They opened the front door and Beth had to turn into Shawn to shield her eyes from all the flashing lights. Police and men in black suits were everywhere. There were two men on the porch that turned as soon as the door opened. Both hands went to their guns until they got a good look.

"It's just the kids," the taller of the men noted. He had olive skin and a hard stare. The other man had a five o'clock shadow and sad eyes.

Beth could only spare them the briefest of glimpses, her eyes were all for the shapes on the grass that used to be her parents.

"Why don't we go inside and talk," Kind-eyes began.

"Who killed our parents?" Shawn interjected harshly. Beth heard the slight tremor in her brother's voice. His arm was still around her waist and it was as much for him as it was for her.

The two men exchanged glances. "I think it's best if we go inside and-"

"Who the fuck killed my mother and father?" Shawn roared. Beth flinched and everyone else stopped what they were doing to stare at the three of them. Maggie placed a calming hand on Shawn's shoulder.

Kind-eyes sighed. "That was one of the most wanted men in the world. A terrorist, calls himself the Governor."

Beth dragged her eyes away from her dead parents, attention caught by his words.

"That makes no sense," Maggie said slowly. "Why would he want... my father was a vet."

Another veiled look was swapped between the two men. "Not always," the dark one said and Kind-eyes glared.

"Once upon a time he used to work for us."

...

At some point Maggie had draped a blanket around her shoulders but Beth was still shivering. She was shivering and she couldn't stop. She was glad Shawn and Maggie were there because she couldn't force her mind to process what she was hearing. Her siblings were strong and sharp, dealing with their problems as they arose.

Agent Walsh and Agent Grimes, as they had identified themselves, sat on the couch across from her. Agent Grimes was constantly shooting concerned glances in her direction but Walsh was watching Shawn pace.

"What you're saying doesn't make any sense!"

Walsh's jaw clenched, he had the least patience of the two, but Grimes calmly asked, "Which part?"

"The part where my father was supposedly some spy."

"We prefer intelligence officers," Walsh offered.

"Who cares what you prefer? My parents are dead because of that asshole," Shawn shouted. Beth's throat felt tight but she was no longer crying. She didn't think she had any tears left in her body right now.

"Why would he want to kill my father and my mother?" Maggie asked in a more even voice.

"The Governor blames your father for the death of his wife and child. He led a raid against his compound, he escaped, they didn't," Grimes answered, leaning forward with his hands clasped. "Your father felt very guilty about the outcome. He left the organisation soon after."

"My father knew he was coming," Beth said quietly, speaking for the first time. "How?"

"We received a tip off he was back in the country. We thought it was impossible but on the off chance it was true we knew this would be his first target," Grimes explained.

"You'll get him right?" Maggie had her arms wrapped around her body.

"We'll do our best," Grimes said uneasily.

"Your best?" Shawn repeated incredulously.

"This isn't your normal criminal, kid. He's managed to elude us for over twenty years," Walsh said, fiddling with the strap of his watch. "But don't worry, we'll get you lot out of town-"

"Excuse me?" Maggie interrupted and Grimes shot his partner another glare.

"What we're trying to say is you can't stay here. He's going to want to finish the job," Grimes said slowly.

"I'm not going anywhere!" Shawn was obstinate but Beth could see the fear in his posture.

"We can keep you safe," Grimes promised.

"Who is 'we' anyway? I can't tell if you guys are FBI, Homeland Security or the CIA," Shawn snapped.

"That's need to know," Walsh deflected.

"It got our father killed; I think we need to know."

"You don't," Walsh disagreed casually.

"There's more," Grimes started, looking regretful. "You're best chance is going into witness protection. Separately."

Beth's head snapped up at that word and Maggie's hand appeared on her shoulder.

"Absolutely not," Shawn cried, standing in between the agents and his sisters.

"Look," Walsh said, shoving himself to his feet. "I had a lot of respect for you father and because of that I'm going to keep you alive. You don't believe anything else, believe that! And the best way to do that is to separate you three. You think he won't be looking for a group of people that fit your description."

Shawn slumped into a nearby chair. His hunched shoulders spoke of his defeat. "Beth's just eighteen. How can you ask me to let either of my sisters go."

Walsh crouched next to him. "It's not forever. It's just until we catch the son of a bitch."

Beth locked eyes with her brother across the room. She bit her trembling lip and nodded once. She wanted them to live just so that they could see justice for her parents.

Shawn sat back and ran a hand through his hair. "Ok," he consented simply.

The agents went into action then and Beth saw their efficiency and intelligence. It was consoling grieving children that was their weak spot. An officer came in and made them some tea with Maggie's help. Beth stared at her steaming mug and couldn't bring herself to touch it. The officer had made it in her mother's mug but they weren't to know that.

She caught snatches of conversation. Words like proximity and suitability were being thrown around. It hit her that they couldn't have a funeral. This mystery organisation would take possession of her parents' bodies and they'd just have to trust they'd be taken care of respectfully. The three of them would be on the run by the end of the night.

There was a light knock on the door and Grimes answered it. There was a serious looking Asian man in the entrance.

"Seriously?" Shawn scoffed. "He doesn't look old enough to shave."

"He's older than you," Walsh countered.

"Agent Rhee graduated top of his class," Grimes said. "He's more than capable."

The man's facial expression hadn't shifted despite Shawn's onslaught and Beth distantly wondered if they were chosen for their lack of emotion.

"Maggie, you can go with Agent Rhee."

As if on cue, the man stepped forward to hold his hand out to Maggie. She shook it tentatively.

"Call me Glenn," he said with a faint trace of an awkward smile. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"We'll have identifications and a cover story sent to your safe house," Walsh said and Beth realised with a wave of panic that Maggie was about to leave.

She got to her feet hurriedly and threw her arms around her big sister. Maggie affectionately tucked Beth's blond hair behind her ears. "You be strong, Bethy. It's gonna be just fine."

A strangled sob caught in Beth's throat as Shawn hugged Maggie next, whispering something furiously in her ear. Beth grabbed Shawn's hand as Maggie walked out the front door with one last lingering glance.

Beth's heart had never hurt so much in her life. She wasn't sure how people survived this kind of pain. In a few hours her family had been torn apart. She pressed her face into Shawn's chest and listened to his nonsense, soothing words.

Beth lost track of time. Maybe hours passed, maybe minutes but eventually another knock was heard and Beth's stomach dropped.

A blond woman in her early thirties was there and she spoke over the top of Walsh who had been about to introduce her. "My name's Andrea." Her gaze was understanding and it brought fresh tears to Beth's eyes.

Walsh clapped Shawn on the shoulder. "Your turn, buddy."

"I can't leave Beth," Shawn protested.

"Whether I am, I'll be part of the coordinating team for the Governor's apprehension," Andrea said. Shawn stiffened.

"Thought you'd be interested," Walsh observed.

"Can I wait for Beth to be picked up?"

Andrea's polite smile focused. "I'm very sorry but the sooner we go the better. We have a long way to travel."

Shawn's jaw clenched and Beth knew he was torn. He wanted to be involved in this search and they were offering him an opportunity to help but he was loath to abandon his little sister after they'd just endured such a tragedy.

"Go, Shawn. I'll be fine," Beth assured him. She straightened her back though it took every ounce of strength in her to stand tall.

"'Atta girl," Walsh said quietly and Beth knew he was complimenting her, not mocking her.

Shawn crushed her against him. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I love you so much, Beth. When this is all done. We'll come back here and we'll do right by them."

When Shawn disappeared, Beth's legs gave out. Grimes caught her elbow and eased her down to sit. She had no idea if she would even survive, let alone whether she would see her siblings ever again. She was too numb and empty to cry now.

The agents backed up to give her some time. After staring at the wall absently for too long, Beth came aware of an argument.

"He's the only choice."

"He's undercover, he can't do both assignments."

Beth's ears pricked.

"He's not even suitable for the job, you know how I feel about him."

"And you know I disagree. If you can think of a better option than I'm all ears," Grimes hissed.

There was a dip in the couch as Grimes cautiously sat next to her.

"How are you holding up?"

Beth couldn't answer that question.

"Guess that was a stupid thing to ask. It's been a horrible night for you," Grimes mumbled.

"Having trouble finding someone to babysit me?" Beth asked flatly.

"I think we'll be ok," Grimes decided.

"I can't believe I never knew," Beth lamented, words slipping out without any thought.

"He saved lives. He was a good man. If he didn't tell you, it was to protect you."

"It didn't work though. My parents are-" Beth swallowed, "-dead. My parents are dead and my brother and sister are going god knows where."

"You'll just have to pray everything will work out."

Beth's throat felt like sandpaper, raw from violent weeping. "I don't very much feel like praying anymore."

Her parents had both prayed and it hadn't saved them.

There was a sudden movement and her hand was suddenly pressed between Grimes' hands. They were cool and dry, nothing like her clammy, hot palms.

"I know you only just met me and have no reason to trust me but we will find him. You will be reunited with your brother and sister. You just have to be strong."

"I don't know if I am." Beth felt pathetic.

A crocked grin crossed Grimes face. "I knew your father and it's impossible you are anything but strong, Beth Greene."

Beth didn't know this man but she let him hold her hand and say those comforting words because she needed something solid to cling to and Grimes was talking like a sane person in a world gone mad. Beth didn't know if she had the same kind of fire or spirit Shawn and Maggie had but she had a quiet resolve and patient soul. She couldn't predict the future but she hoped she wouldn't falter.

"Thank you, Agent Grimes." Beth was sincere. She had needed those kind words.

"Call me Rick," he offered.

The door opened quickly and Beth's heart pounded again, thinking it was her new protector and guardian.

Walsh stood there, obviously put out. His cell phone was in his hand. He tossed it to Rick who caught it deftly.

"You win. Call Dixon."

**AN: A lot of the inspirations for this story are pretty obvious but the real clincher was Zach's guessing game about Daryl's occupation. Had me thinking, what if? Not all chapters are going to be this long but I thought it was a comprehensive introduction. Please let me know what you think.**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Thank you to Candi who pointed out that the Greenes are Baptist and wouldn't have a rosary. I ignorantly went with Catholicism (no idea why, I literally have a cousin who is a Baptist minister), and I apologise. **

**...**

There was a ringing in Daryl's head and a pounding behind both eyes. At first he thought it was a hangover brewing but he hadn't drunk nearly enough so it was exhaustion then. He felt weary all the way down to his bones and when he cracked open one eye and his room was still pitch black he figured he'd only gotten an hour or two of sleep tops.

The ringing wasn't imaginary either. It was his phone, kept too close to his head. With a grunt and one eye still closed, he managed to jab the answer button.

"You know what fucking time it is?" he demanded of his caller, voice husky with sleep. He expected some kind of mocking, snappy answer back but the voice on the end of the line was perfunctory and clinical.

"Dixon?"

Daryl sat up in bed, sheets falling to his waist. "Grimes?" his voice uncertain. He hadn't heard from Agent Rick Grimes for months, hadn't heard from anyone in the organisation. He was deep undercover and the last voice he expected to hear was one of his trainers.

"Are you in Atlanta?"

Daryl ran a hand through his hair, starting to feel more awake. "Yeah."

"I need you for a job."

"I have a job,' Daryl pointed out. He'd always had good intuition and he was beginning to get an ominous feeling about this middle of the night phone call.

There was a beat on the other end and then, "it's not optional."

Of course it wasn't. He was in the wrong line of work to think anything was optional.

"What do you need?" he asked automatically, slowly becoming more formal and professional. Daryl was always accused of being insubordinate but if they wanted him at his best behaviour, they could have called during business hours.

"I need you to head down to Senoia. Now. You know where that is?"

Daryl wracked his brain. The name sounded familiar but he was having trouble creating a map in his mind.

"Some hickville little town in the asshole of nowhere?"

There was another extended silence. "Good to hear you don't break character." Rick sounded amused. Mostly because they both knew this wasn't a performance, Daryl hadn't gotten this job on his acting skills.

Rick rattled off an address while Daryl rummaged around for a pen, having to write it awkwardly on his hand.

Daryl squinted at it and realised he knew the general area. "It'll take me just under an hour."

"Excellent," Rick approved. "Daryl, there are local law enforcement, so try and look like someone they won't arrest on sight."

Daryl made a face even though Rick couldn't see. "Fine," he said with a clipped tone.

"Oh and Daryl?"

"I'll wear a fucking tie, man."

"Bring your truck."

The line went dead without so much as a goodbye. That wasn't Rick being rude; it was just how his fellow agents worked. They were always too much in a rush to bother with niceties. That suited Daryl. He hated niceties, even if he had all the time in the world. After all they hired him for his specific skill set, not because he played well with others. He had stubbornly resisted calling anyone 'sir', his sign of respect had been refraining from calling anyone asshat.

Daryl stumbled to his feet and wished he could take the bike. The stagnant air in his apartment felt like soup on his naked skin. He opened his cupboard with a groan and wondered how they planned on fucking up his life tonight.

...

Walsh and Rick were arguing again. Beth was the only other person in the room and clearly she wasn't important enough to worry about being discrete in front of.

"What makes you think he'll even agree to this?" Walsh was asking, hands on his hips.

"He doesn't have a choice," Rick remarked, checking his watch for the seventh time in ten minutes. Beth had counted. It gave her something to do other than think about her dead parents. The lights had decreased outside and Beth suspected that most of the work being done outside had drawn to a close. She was so tired but the idea of lying down and taking a quick nap was alien to her.

Instead she eavesdropped.

Walsh was scoffing at Rick. His voice was low but Beth read his disdain from the set of his body. "You know he can make things difficult for us. He has a habit of doing what he wants regardless of orders."

A small crinkle appeared in Beth's forehead. This was the person they were going to land her with?

"I know you don't like him," Rick began when Walsh interrupted with a snort. "But he came back with some of the highest scores in observance and his physical courses."

"Too bad he's got shit all impulse control."

Beth's eyebrows lifted at the curse word and Rick hushed his partner with a guilty look at Beth.

"He's unconventional but he's doing good work."

"For the wrong reasons. He's only doing it to keep his scum bag brother out of trouble."

"That may be true," Rick affirmed, "But that scum bag brother got us our only in into that gang."

Beth couldn't understand most of what they were saying. Sure she knew what all the words meant but over all she was confused. Scum bag brothers and gangs all sounded like frightening things, things she had no exposure to in her sheltered upbringing. Nothing these two were saying was putting her mind at rest. She wished they hadn't been so adamant about splitting them up, then she could have had the comfort of having Maggie or Shawn with her.

Both agents cut of their stilted argument when they heard the roar of an engine. It wasn't the same smooth purr that all the other cars had and Beth wondered if perhaps it was someone unexpected. Her fingers curled so that she was digging her nails into her palm. Walsh and Rick didn't look concerned though so she figured that this was the mysterious Agent Dixon that had so efficiently divided the partners' opinion.

The door opened without the same cursory knock the other agents had used. A man in his mid thirties filled the door and his piercing gaze swept the room, brushing past her quickly and fixing on the two men. He strode into the room like he owned it, ignoring Beth and giving her the chance to stare unhindered.

Andrea and Glenn had been crisp and clean cut. The same couldn't be said of this man. His hair was shaggy around his ears and he has a scruffy beard. The white shirt he was wearing clearly hadn't been ironed and the thin black tied had been tugged at so it was loose around his neck.

"I thought you said there were locals," he said. His accent was southern; the voice was low and raspy, sounding like he'd smoked too many cigarettes in his day.

"There would have been, if you'd been on time," Walsh griped.

The man's eyes cut to Walsh and Beth admired the agent didn't falter even though she knew she would have if that harsh gaze was pinning her.

"Walsh, always a displeasure."

"This is Beth," Rick cut across them and a flash of annoyance flashed along his features. Dixon looked at the girl sharply and Beth resisted the urge to pull the blanket up between them. She was her father's daughter, she was strong.

"What happened here?" Dixon asked seriously. "There's a mess of blood out front there."

Beth gasped, she couldn't help it. Those blue eyes swivelled back to her.

"We had the first sighting of The Governor in five years," Walsh explained, still bristling at Dixon's attitude.

"No shit!"

Beth wondered how this man was an agent. He definitely didn't talk or act like the others she had seen so far.

"The girl?" he asked, jerking his chin in Beth's direction.

"That's Hershel Greene's daughter."

From the change of Dixon's posture, Beth could tell her father's name was familiar. While hearing it made Beth's heart ache, an expression of respect crossed his face.

With dawning realisation, he looked back at the agents. "The blood?"

Rick nodded once and tucked his hands in his pockets and Beth hoped they would stop talking about blood soon.

"I'm sorry," Dixon said awkwardly and Beth realised he was speaking to her. Beth had nothing to respond with so she ducked her head and stared at her hands.

Talking in a lower voice now, Dixon asked, "Why'd you need me?"

"We need you to take Beth."

There was a beat. "Take her where?" Dixon was baffled; no one had explained the situation to him.

"Home with you," Walsh elaborated like he was talking to someone stupid.

Dixon shook his head. "Can't do that," he declined.

"It's an order," Rick conveyed.

"What am I supposed to do with her?" Dixon gestured at her and Beth felt more like an object than a person.

"Keep her safe."

"I'm undercover. How am I gonna explain this girl?"

Beth didn't like that he was calling her girl; after all, he knew her name.

"She'll be at your house, there's no need for her to be discovered," Walsh contended.

Dixon shot him an incredulous look. "She ain't a poodle, she's gonna need to go outside." His anger was thickening and heating his accent like spiced molasses.

Walsh shrugged. "I don't know, tell them she's your daughter."

Dixon and Beth exchanged a look. Dixon's lip curled and Beth regretted meeting his eyes.

"She doesn't look a god damned thing like me! She looks like a barbie."

That stung and Beth fought not to narrow her eyes at the man. Despite everything that had happened she was still reacting to him. That gave some indication to how big a jerk he was.

"His brother will get suspicious," Rick added, shooting down the daughter angle once and for all. Beth was glad. The idea of pretending to be someone else's daughter after what had just happened made her feel sick.

"Fine," Walsh muttered, throwing his hands up in the air. "Your girlfriend then."

Dixon's eyes widened and this time Beth stubbornly refused to look at any of the men, knowing they were all studying her.

"The fuck, man? She doesn't even look old enough to drink. Girl, how old are you?"

She was being spoken to again, summoned by the impersonal 'girl.'

"Eighteen."

This answer didn't please Dixon one little bit. "Jesus Christ, I'm gonna look like a sick son of a bitch."

"This is just in case she gets discovered," Rick pacified. "We'll get her some documentation. Fake name, fake age."

Dixon was starting to look uncomfortable. He'd come to the end of valid excuses, Beth could tell. He conceded his defeat with his ensuing silence. Beth got unsteadily to her feet, knowing that this was it. She was being sent off with this coarse man.

Unexpectedly he held out his hand to her. Beth timidly took it.

"Beth, is it?"

She affirmed it with a nod. He shook her hand with more gentleness than she anticipated. "I'm-"

"Agent Dixon," she interrupted, surprising herself and him.

He grunted. "Best if you call me Daryl, considerin' you're gonna be my girlfriend and all." The last part was delivered sarcastically to the agents who were supervising the exchange closely.

**AN: You guys! The response to last chapter was overwhelming and I'm so pleased. And terrified, 'cause I hate expectations. I'll probably be updating this on alternate nights from 18 Miles Out, just so I don't overwhelm you guys and myself. Hit me with your thoughts. **


	3. Chapter 3

Daryl waited only long enough for the girl, Beth, to grab some clothes. She was like this ghost of a person, dimly following what was happening around her as if she was watching through a veil. Rick told him to be kind to the girl, like he understood what that would entail. Daryl didn't spend much time chatting with females and it had been a long time since he'd spoken to a teenager. He certainly didn't know the correct way to broach the grief she was quite clearly experiencing. He suspected he'd just say something stupid and make things worse.

Luckily she didn't seem to have much interest in talking to him anyway. She climbed into the truck silently, managing a muted goodbye to the two agents who would now be nothing but a reminder of the worst night of her life.

Daryl shook hands with Rick and glared at Walsh before getting in the driver seat. He'd had this truck for so long he could barely imagine a time when he wouldn't own the hulking blue thing. It would give out one day but for now it served as a link to life before agents and criminals. Beth looked tiny in the passenger seat and he couldn't work out if she was just that petite or whether she had curled in on herself.

He started the journey back to Atlanta, driving along dark roads with no street lights. He made no effort to offer conciliatory words. Beth had probably heard enough condolences from perfect strangers to last her a life time. She might have been asleep next to him for all the noise that she was making. She even breathed quiet.

Daryl's fingers itched to turn on the radio but he decided that might be inappropriate so he let the heavy silence ride, focusing on the road.

When eventually they got on the highway that would bring them into Atlanta, lights lined the road once more. Daryl chanced a look at Beth and was surprised to see her eyes were open as she watched the world slip by outside the window. The lights had a cast a bluish tinge on her face and Daryl could tell from the shine on her cheeks that she'd spent most of the drive silently crying.

As if sensing his eyes on her, she lifted her hand and swiped at her face, trying to remove evidence that there had been tears. Daryl's keen eyes saw a slight tremor to her hands.

He started to wonder how long she'd been awake and how she was still upright. He impulsively pulled into a gas station.

"You hungry?" His first words to her sounded harsh and inadequate. Still without looking at him she shook her head. Daryl felt the beginnings of frustration stir in his gut. He wasn't a patient or sensitive man and saddling her with him was cruel to both of them.

Daryl got out of the cab of the truck and went inside. He tugged at his tie and loosened it even further. He hated wearing them, felt like he was being strangled. He grabbed a soda, figuring he'd start small with the girl.

Daryl climbed back in and deposited the drink in her lap less than gently. That startled Beth into looking up.

"You're probably in shock," Daryl explained, pre-empting her complaints. "You could use the sugar."

Beth fiddled with the top, not opening it but not ignoring the offering either. "I haven't got any money."

Daryl's expression was wry. "My shout." This strange creature was still being polite after everything that had happened to her. It was unnerving.

Daryl didn't start the engine; instead he leaned one arm on the steering wheel and watched her. He suspected she could feel his stare and wasn't surprised when she shifted uncomfortably. She wasn't looking at him though. Daryl didn't care. If he was driving, she'd dither around and not drink any of it. That last thing he needed was to play nurse maid to a catatonic teenager.

Daryl sighed. "Make you a deal. I'll answer one of your questions if you drink some'a that."

Beth sat up a little straighter and something coherent filtered across her face. "Questions?"

Daryl waved a dismissive hand. "After everything that's happened tonight, don't act like you don't have any."

Beth actually focused on his face and he noted her eyes were very blue, even if they were bloodshot from the weeping. There was a long pause as Beth carefully calculated which question to ask, he could almost see her brain ticking over.

"Who is my father?"

Daryl sat back in his seat, reaching out to pluck the soda out of her hands. He cracked it and handed it back, keeping a hold on the lid.

"Your father was one of the best agents in the history of the organisation." He pretended not to notice her cringe when he used past tense.

"The organisation?"

"Ya only get one," he reminded, "now drink."

Beth took a small mouthful and she ran her tongue lightly over her lips, capturing any lingering sweetness. Daryl was gratified that she took another sip straight after, her body contradicting what her emotions were telling her she needed.

"They talked about him all the time in training, he's a bit of a legend," Daryl added, feeling generous. "Word was a mission went wrong and he retired and became a vet. That true?"

Beth nodded.

Daryl twisted the key in the ignition. "Must have all happened before you were born," he surmised. It just proved that you could never really know another person. Everyone had secrets. God knew he had enough of his own. Once he'd accepted that people lied, it was easier to become who he needed to be and stop relying on anyone but himself.

"Did you ever meet him?" Beth asked unexpectedly.

"No but I heard enough about him to feel like I did." For some reason that seemed to satisfy Beth and he noted there was some colour back in her cheeks.

Daryl eased back onto the road and felt slightly better after the exchange. He hadn't been conventionally reassuring but overall it had been painless enough. He was just relieved she wasn't sobbing uncontrollably in his truck because Daryl knew he had nothing in his repertoire except to back up and give her some space.

He was beyond tired when they pulled into his street. It was a rundown kind of neighbourhood but his street was one of the better ones in the area and his apartment was the only one occupied in the building taking up the top floor. It wasn't such a coincidence considering he owned it. He'd never had much desire to make money but both his proper job and his life in crime paid well.

He pulled the car into a garage and took in Beth's look of trepidation. All out of supportive words, Daryl merely got out of the truck making Beth follow him hastily, lugging the small bag filled with clothes.

Daryl waited until Beth was looking around at her surroundings to punch in a complicated key code in the pin pad that was hidden as a circuit panel. He opened the door with a grimace, wishing uselessly that he wasn't in this position.

...

Beth had roused herself from her stupor to look around. The neighbourhood was a bit derelict and Beth couldn't ignore the sense of uneasiness that shifted in her belly. She had been to Atlanta plenty of times but it was a big city and she'd stuck mostly to the tourist district.

The beginning of a headache was setting in and Beth knew she had cried herself to this point. She wasn't sure what was worse; the numbness or this drumming pain in her temples. She nursed the mostly drunk soda in her lap. She hadn't wanted any of it but then Agent Dixon, Daryl, had made her an offer she couldn't refuse. She had toyed with the idea of asking about the Governor. She wanted some knowledge about this man who had so causally swept into her life and torn it asunder. If she had some information she could morph her grief into tangible rage and hate.

But in the end her desire to know more about her father had won out. She'd lived with that man all her life and only knew a fraction about his past as it turned out. Clearly her mother had known enough. She had been scared but not bewildered by the Governor's appearance on her doorstep. Beth couldn't help thinking that if they'd been better prepared, if they'd had a plan then her parents wouldn't have had to sacrifice themselves to keep their children alive. Thinking like that sent a bolt of pain to her heart and it took all her strength not to weep again.

Daryl pulling into a garage forced her to look around at her new environment. The building was dirty with graffiti and Beth bit her lip but stayed silent. She stuck close to Daryl though, ashamed of her fear even after all she'd seen that night.

The start of dawn could be seen right before Daryl closed the garage. She spotted a motorcycle nearby and that looked a lot better cared for than the truck.

Beth followed him wordlessly up a dingy flight of stairs. The building was silent and she wondered how many other tenants lived there. An exit light flickered inconsistently on one of the landings. They made their way to the very top and Beth glanced around and considered the wisdom of making a run for it. She didn't think Daryl would tolerate that and she was too bone weary to think up a good escape plan.

Daryl opened the door and gestured her impatiently in before him. Beth had to pause and take stock. It was nothing like she imagined. It was spartan but it was clean and well maintained. A glance around didn't reveal any personal items. There were no framed photographs; no artworks on the wall. There was a desk with a closed laptop but nothing else.

There was a couch and TV but it didn't look like much time had been spent lounging around. A punching bag hung in the corner of the room and that looked a little worn. The kitchen wasn't in a separate room, it just joined on. It too looked underused and pristine. There wasn't even a table to sit and eat. Beth took this all in with a blank face. The whole place felt temporary and cold. It was a sharp contrast to her home which had been filled with mementos of her life.

Daryl cleared his throat behind her and Beth realised she had stopped and blocked his entry. She shuffled awkwardly into the room. Daryl raked a hand through his hair and Beth could see he was uncomfortable with having another person in his space. He didn't entertain guests, that much was apparent.

"My bedroom's through there, you can have it," he offered gruffly.

"What about you?" Beth was embarrassed by the idea that she was usurping Daryl in his own house.

He shrugged. "Ain't much point in me going to sleep, I have work to do."

Beth chose to overlook the fact that was a solution for right now but she'd be there day after day for the foreseeable future. There were two closed doors so there was a fifty fifty chance one of them was his bedroom. Seeing her hesitation, Daryl helpfully added, "one on the left. There's a bathroom on the right if you're so inclined."

Beth wasn't inclined to do much more than curl up in a small ball and see to her broken heart. Daryl's stilted conversation and blunt manner wasn't much in the way of balm for her soul. Again she longed for Maggie; she could sink into her big sister's arms and forget about this terrible night.

Deciding that prolonging wouldn't make this any less surreal, she trundled across and opened the door, dragging her bag. The room was just as bare as the rest of the house and the decor was mostly grey and blue and impersonal. The sheets were thrown back and it was quite obvious that he'd been sleeping when the phone call had summoned him to her personal disaster. It shouldn't have been weird but seeing such obvious signs of use made Beth feel strange. She didn't know Daryl Dixon from a bar of soap and now she was going to sleep in his bed.

She was too exhausted and broken to linger on that thought. She dropped her bag and thought about saying something by way of closure. Maybe good night or thanks for the ride but all words stuck in her throat. Instead she shut the door behind her with a quiet click.

Beth's legs gave out and she pressed her back against the wall, she tucked her knees up under her chin and wrapped her arms around her body. She was shaking violently.

Beth was sobbing again and she was loud. She didn't care that Daryl was only a few meters away and could probably hear her break down. The closed door gave her all the illusion of privacy she needed as her body was wracked over and over again. She sounded more animal than human and she felt like she was crying shards of glass out of her heart.

She couldn't even call or text Maggie and Shawn, her phone had been taken by Rick.

Eventually she managed to get weak legs underneath her and slide to her feet using the wall as support. With deliberate, slow movements, she took off her shoes. Beth collapsed into the bed, clothes and all. She tucked the sheets around her even though it was still hot. She needed the security of being tucked in.

The bed was comfortable and that was a relief. Beth hadn't gotten close enough to Daryl to smell him but she imagined his sheets reflected it. It was a combination of spices and the outdoors. It didn't smell like the dusky warmth of her farm, it was cool like a pine forest, but it allowed her to forget that she was in some back hovel of Atlanta just for a few moments.

Beth lids closed over raw, burning eyes and struggled not to see her parents' murder on a loop in her mind.

**AN: To get these both up I might have been pretty lazy with the edit so hopefully no mistakes got caught up in there. Hope everyone enjoys their holiday and thank you for the overwhelming support. **


	4. Chapter 4

_Daryl's eye was swollen shut and he could feel the blood drying under his nose. He didn't care much though because it was a case of 'you should see the other guy.' Daryl didn't know why that guy had pissed him off so much but he'd just taken to him the wrong way and so Daryl had swung without much thought. Didn't matter that he had a bunch of friends to back him up because Daryl was a Dixon and scrapping was in his blood. _

_Of course he'd been stupid and lingered past when was due and that's how he ended up in this weird interrogation room after being left to sober up in the cell. He wasn't in here very often but they knew him by name. It was a biannual tradition that Daryl would lose his shit on some poor, unsuspecting schmuck. If they thought he'd grow out of it, they were wrong. Going on twenty-eight and when that fire was lit in his veins, well he couldn't ignore it until he'd done some violence._

_This night wasn't progressing as normal though. They'd taken him out of his cell with a little too much force and left him handcuffed in this room with terrible lighting. No amount of hollering had brought him any answers and so he'd settled for slouching in the chair and sulking. _

_When the door opened, he jerked to attention. A man in an expensive suit appeared in the room. The suit would have to cost more than Daryl made in a few months. _

"_I don't need no lawyer," Daryl sneered, obnoxious off the bat._

_The man didn't even blink at his attitude. He had a file tucked under one arm and two cups of coffee. The smell filled the room and it made Daryl's stomach rumble. The man settled into a chair across from Daryl and looked at him properly._

"_They did a number on you," the man said casually. _

"_You should see the other guy!" Nailed it. "Didn't you hear what I said about not wantin' a lawyer?"_

"_Oh yes, you're very loud. Lawyers in Mexico now know you don't want a bar of them." _

_Daryl narrowed his eyes, understanding he was being mocked. "Who the fuck are you?" he demanded rudely. _

_The man flipped open the file and Daryl couldn't see much but he could see his own name. "What's that?"_

_The man didn't glance up from the paper work. "Here," he said, sliding one of the coffees across the table. _

_Daryl rattled his bound hands to illustrate his restrictions. The man tossed him the key and Daryl caught it and awkwardly set about unlocking his hands. He thought about making a dash for it but there were too many cops outside and he'd probably get hauled back all the same. _

_He sniffed at the coffee. He wanted to make a showing of not accepting the gesture but he hadn't had anything other than rum for twenty-four hours and honestly, the man didn't look like he could care less whether he drank it or not._

"_So if you're not a lawyer, then what are you?"_

_The man's eyes flicked up. "I'm an opportunity."_

"_Yeah? For what?"_

"_For you to change."_

_Daryl snorted. "Don't sound particularly likely."_

"_Some people are inclined to believe that too. But I think you fill a unique skill set."_

"_You got a lot of use for criminals?" _

_The man tapped the file in front of him. "Petty criminal," he amended. _

"_You sonofabitch!"_

_The man wasn't rattled. "I'm Agent Grimes."_

"_I don't give a fuck who you are. Can't you just leave me to my hangover in peace?"_

_Grimes ignored his outburst. "Daryl Dixon," he read from the file. "Younger brother of Merle Dixon."_

_Daryl's ears pricked at hearing his brother's name mentioned. He hadn't seen Merle for two years, the longest stretch ever. He assumed he was locked up somewhere. They hadn't parted on good terms, Daryl found out his brother's drug use was less casual than he thought and had kicked up an almighty stink about it. _

"_I ain't got no ties to him." Daryl couldn't imagine what Merle had done to bring 'agents' down on his ass. Who even used the title agent anyway? FBI? CIA?_

"_You're brother has got himself caught up in a gang in Atlanta."_

"_So? Sounds like Merle," Daryl griped. _

"_This isn't your run of the mill gang. The Zombies-"_

"_Stupid name."_

"_-are into drugs, weapons, human trafficking." _

_Daryl had to stare at Grimes. He hadn't seen his brother getting in that over his head. _

"_And you want what? Information? Sorry but Dixons don't snitch." Daryl crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. His chin was tilted defiantly._

"_Oh no, I want you to go undercover for us."_

_Daryl started to laugh, he couldn't help it. This had to be a joke. Some asshole cop was pulling his leg to teach him a lesson._

"_I'm being serious, Mr. Dixon. The group is notoriously suspicious of newcomers and were we to plant our own agent it would take a very long time before they got to a position they could give us useful information."_

"_So just arrest the lot of them," Daryl suggested. "You don't need me for shit."_

"_As much as I'd like to, they're actually smart and good at covering their tracks. Besides, we don't want them off the streets as much as we want their international contacts."_

_Daryl chewed on his thumb and considered the information presented to him. Not FBI then. _

"_Obviously were you to sign on you'd get more information on the nature of our organisation," Grimes promised with a wry smile. Daryl scowled at the uncanny way Grimes guessed what he was thinking._

"_What makes you think I'd care?" he asked shifting tact._

_Grimes turned his attention back to the obvious dossier on Daryl. "A few fights and some thefts when you were younger. No evidence of drugs or alcohol abuse. Well not a lot," Grimes added, shifting his eyes from the page to Daryl's beat up face. "No domestic violence either."_

_Daryl jerked unwillingly as those words conjured up images of his childhood. Somehow he knew that Grimes knew all about his upbringing. Daryl had never raised a hand to a woman or a child, never would. _

"_You're not a bad person, Mr. Dixon. You're apparently just misguided."_

"_I know some people who'd disagree with you," Daryl countered weakly, unnerved by this assessment of his character. _

"_Their opinion has no weight on my decision. I've been approved to take you on board if you're willing."_

"_And if I decide not to rat my brother out?" Daryl may be at odds with Merle presently but he was still his brother and blood ran thick in the south. _

"_Your participation will ensure your brother gets a nice deal. We're going to take them down regardless," Grimes informed him. "This way your brother doesn't have a target on his back."_

_Daryl pondered that for a moment and realised, Grimes had put him in a tight spot. He swore concisely. _

"_When do I go in?"_

"_Not for a while yet but good to see you're eager. You'll have to complete a vigorous training-"_

"_Learning?" Daryl was aghast. _

"_So we're not sending a lamb to the slaughter." _

_Daryl stared across the table at Grimes and tried to get a read on the man. His face was carefully controlled but Daryl's instincts told him that he wasn't being played. This offer was legit. Unexpectedly he felt a stirring of excitement in his bones. Daryl hadn't planned for his life to be much, surviving had been good enough for him so far. Now he was being presented with a chance to do something. Who cared if it was dangerous? He was a Dixon after all._

...

Beth had ten blissful seconds when she cracked her eyes open. Ten glorious beats of the clock before she remembered what had happened and all the weight of the world came rushing back in. It hit her like a physical blow.

The sunlight was golden as it ran through the window and Beth resented it. The brightness had been what had woken her. She locked at the clock on the bedside table, expecting it to be morning. She didn't feel rested, in fact she felt stiff and awful.

It was two in the afternoon. Beth registered this information with a tiny bit of surprise. She couldn't hear anything from the apartment. Listlessly she dragged herself out of the bed, unsteady on her feet. She stood in the room without much direction or purpose.

Beth opened the bedroom door and went through the living room. There was no sign Daryl was there. A sliver of yellow caught her eye and she saw a note had been stuck to the fridge. Beth wandered across and picked it up.

"_Door is impossible to open without code, you are safe here. You also can't escape!"_

Beth had barely mustered enough energy to make it from one room to the other. Escape was the furthest thing from her mind right now.

"_Help yourself to food_."

That was it. The entirety of the note. Beth glanced at the fridge and wondered if she should eat. She decided that she couldn't and didn't want to anyway. She crumpled the note and tossed it onto the bench, leaving the fridge unopened.

She sat on the couch then and stared at the switched off TV. Again she was filled with conflicting feelings. She got the sense she should be doing something but she couldn't think what and couldn't find the desire to actually do anything. She was still in yesterday's clothes and so a shower made sense but the closest she got to the bathroom was a cursory look at the door.

Her eyes were stinging from all the tears she shed yesterday and she found she had settled back into that bleak numbness that started in her heart and spread outwards.

Her parents were dead and nothing would bring them back. The best she could hope for was that they caught the maniac who had cut their lives short and from what she understood the Governor had a tendency to be elusive. That didn't fill her with hope and she desperately needed something to cling to.

The image of her father's half smile before he died was haunting her. Beth's breathing was laboured as she sat on the couch and ran the events over and over in her mind.

She spared a thought for Maggie and Shawn. She hoped they weren't too far away even if she couldn't see them. She entertained herself by picturing them a few streets away, safe and alive. Beth knew the reality probably didn't match the fantasy. Maybe they weren't even in the same country as her any more.

Beth had enough of sitting and staring at nothing. She had enough of being awake and conscious. Wearily she pried herself off the couch and stumbled back to Daryl's bedroom which was unfamiliar to her. She didn't even have the luxury of grieving in her home, that too had been taken away from her.

She flopped on the bed as the spice and woody smell assaulted her senses again. The room was warm and stifling as another Georgia summer day bore down on Atlanta. Despite that, Beth had shut the door behind her and she felt a little safer, cocooned in this clingy heat.

She didn't know where Daryl was and didn't rightly care. One tear she didn't know she still had eased out of the corner of her eye as she stubbornly rolled into the sheets, determined not to think or feel anymore.

Sleep claimed her slowly.

**AN: I had every intention of updating yesterday but I've actually been so sick, so apologies if this chapter is a bit subpar. Words are hard but by god I updated. Hope you all had a happy holiday. **


	5. Chapter 5

Daryl once preferred small towns in the middle of nowhere. He liked his privacy and his space and thought that was the best place to preserve it. That was until he moved to the city for the first time and realised how much easier it was to lose yourself in a crowd. In a small town, everyone knew you, knew your sins but in a big city, he was no one. It was far simpler to blend in amongst the swarms of people and he liked it that way.

Even now he liked having his space, craved that blessed solitude after a day of putting on a front and working. To have someone sharing his sanctuary was putting him on edge. He didn't want to be a dick about it but he resented Beth Greene, knowing that she had upset the balance of his little ecosystem of which he'd once been the sole inhabitant.

He didn't know if he should be taking a more vested interest in the girl but they had only asked him to keep her safe and hidden, which was what he'd been doing. In reality Daryl hadn't seen Beth for three days. He would worry but there were signs she was alive. His crumpled note after the first day, a used water glass the second day, audible crying the third day.

By the fourth day, Daryl had had enough. He wanted access to his room, to his things and he didn't want to be worried about disturbing the grieving girl. Additionally, while there was evidence she was still breathing, there was none to say she'd eaten anything over the last few days. If she starved to death in his bedroom, Daryl was pretty sure he'd be hauled over hot coals for that.

After a gruelling day he stopped by a small take away joint a few streets away and grabbed two burgers. He didn't have any idea what kind of food Beth liked but he figured hamburgers were a pretty safe bet. She was a teenager so he figured that most teenagers ate trash and junk. Then again, remembering Beth's petite frame it was obvious she wasn't prone to stuffing her face.

Daryl dropped the food on the couch and went to fetch her, completely willing to drag her out of his room by her ankles if he had to. He had the door half open before he thought maybe he should have knocked; there was no telling what state he would find her.

As it turned out, he needn't have worried. The curtains were drawn, making it just dim enough that his eyes had to adjust after the summer sunshine outside. Beth was wound up in his sheets, looking tiny in his bed.

She slowly opened her eyes and watched him enter the room with a glazed expression. The room was stuffy and the air was stale from lack of circulation. That and there was a decidedly new feminine note, which Daryl hated as soon as his keen senses detected it. Daryl crossed the room with quick strides and jerked open the curtains.

Beth recoiled in on herself as the harsh light filled the room. Seeing her clearly made Daryl pause. Her complexion was pallid and while he hadn't paid a lot of attention the other night, he suspected she was still wearing the same clothes

Daryl gestured at her curtly. "C'mon, get up. There's food."

"I'm not hungry." Even her voice was sluggish, as if she'd completely given up on everything.

"Tough," Daryl responded with no sympathy. "You wanna waste away, do it on your own time."

Unless he was much mistaken, her eyes narrowed. Just a little bit, so minute that he might have imagined it but by god he'd take it. That was more reaction than he'd seen in days.

"Leave me alone," Beth croaked, turning her back on him.

"Nope, that's enough wallowin' for a while. You come out an' eat, and then you can go right on back to it."

"Don't you have any empathy?" Beth eventually spat. "What's wrong with you?" She sat up in the bed. So they'd reached the anger stage of grief? That was fine with Daryl. Anger he understood, he could work with that.

"Plenty'a things!"

Beth glowered at him and he glared right on back. He was sorry that she'd seen her family destroyed but it wasn't his fault and he hadn't wanted to make it his problem.

"You can walk or I can throw you over my shoulder."

Beth huffed and tossed back the sheet after being presented with those two options. Daryl was satisfied she was actually going to come out and so he left. By the time she plodded out, the brief spark of rage had defused and she was back to morose bleakness.

She sat tentatively on the couch and opened a bag. Daryl crossed to the fridge and pulled out a beer.

He took a seat on the far side of the couch and switched on the TV. He'd gotten her out of the bedroom but he didn't particularly want to have any conversation.

Daryl took a pull of the cold beer and wanted to groan at how good it was. It was refreshing after such a hot day outside. He noticed Beth watching him.

"I'd offer you one but, y'know, I'm kind of a cop."

"I don't drink," Beth replied quietly and took a tiny nibble from the burger. Beth was either the worst or best teenager ever, depending on where you stood on the issue of underage drinking. Daryl was all for it normally.

Beth was cutting discrete peaks at him that he might have missed if he couldn't feel the hair on the back of his neck prickle with every glance.

"What?"

"You look different," she noted mildly.

Daryl supposed that was fair. He'd abandoned the collared shirt and tie for something more befitting his actual occupation. He looked like a criminal biker which was fine because that's the look he was going for.

"It's my uniform," he said by way of explanation, unwilling to elaborate if he didn't have to. To be honest, it wasn't all that different from what he used to get around in before he'd been plucked out of obscurity.

Whatever was on TV wasn't interesting enough to hold his attention. He knew she'd read his original note on her first day there and he wondered if somehow her hostility was rooted in the fact she was a virtual prisoner in a stranger's apartment.

"You understand the set up right? No questions?" he asked leaning forward.

"I'm not gonna escape," Beth said distantly, not looking at him anymore.

"All the same, no one can get in, you can't get out."

"What if there's a fire?"

"What if there's a what?" Daryl repeated incredulously.

Beth's big luminous eyes fixed on him and he actually felt uncomfortable for the first time. "What if this place catches on fire and I can't leave?"

"It won't."

"But what if-"

"_It won't!_ Fuck!" Daryl snapped. Beth didn't jump at his tirade; she was still walled up behind grief. Daryl actually thought about what she said and swore again. The girl had a point. If starving to death was frowned upon then letting her get burnt to a crisp would probably be a hell of a lot worse.

"I'll sort something out tomorrow," Daryl grumbled. He was glad she was out of it now, she didn't seem to notice that she had won that round, not that it really was a competition.

"I have to work tonight but try an' do something other than cry," Daryl suggested. "Watch TV or something."

He could tell from the set of her body that Beth was going to ignore him and retreat back to the room she was turning into a dungeon.

He rushed through the rest of his food, thoroughly tired of trying to exist in the same space with Beth. Daryl didn't bother with a goodbye. They weren't friends, she wasn't a guest.

Work tonight wasn't typical; it was more a social gathering. He wished he didn't have to go, he was starting to get a headache, a throbbing behind his eyes that looked like it was just going to build. It was putting him in a subdued mood and subdued just didn't cut it.

"What's put that long face on your ugly mug?" Martinez asked.

Daryl cut his eyes to the leader of their crime ring, and took a swig from his fourth beer of the evening. He was beginning to regret having that beer with dinner earlier.

"Just bored, thinkin' there must be some trouble we could get up to."

It was the right answer, Martinez grinned. "God knows you Dixon brothers create more problems than you solve but you guys are good value."

Daryl snorted.

"My ears are burnin', someone say my name?" Merle appeared by his side, significantly more drunk than Daryl. A woman with big boobs and peroxide blonde hair was tucked under his arm. She didn't look entirely pleased to be there but she wasn't trying to get away either.

"Talkin' 'bout ya, not to ya," Daryl retorted. Martinez shook his head with amusement. He was in a good mood and Daryl knew he'd struck up a deal today. He didn't know the details, much to his frustration; Martinez was playing it very close to the chest. Only him and his second, Pete had been cut in.

Daryl was hoping alcohol would free up some information but it was a long shot. Martinez and Pete were both professionals, not inclined to loose lips.

Pete was at the other end of the bar talking to a woman significantly more attractive than the one Merle had managed to lure in. Pete was a handsome man and usually had a hoard of women trailing him wherever they went. Merle could be charming when he wanted to be and he'd sometimes surprised Daryl by procuring a beautiful woman, but generally Merle's standards were low and he was satisfied with proximity over quality.

Daryl had gotten some attention himself when he'd first started inserting himself in the gang but a few cold looks and cutting words and he'd gotten to be known as a man not to be approached. After a time, some of the men had begun to get suspicious and rather than fielding obnoxious questions about his sexuality, he'd indulged in some periodic, uninspiring one night stands. Always at their home, never his apartment, he never stayed the night and he never phoned them. A reputation for being a heart breaking bastard suited him just fine.

Merle chuckled and punched Daryl in the arm a little too hard. He wasn't being antagonistic, he was being sloppy.

"You're just jealous you ain't got a pretty little thing like this on your arm," Merle boasted and Daryl fought not to roll his eyes.

From this distance he could see a little hole in the juncture of her arm. It was discrete but Daryl got a sense for the kind of woman she was. Merle either hadn't noticed or hadn't cared, and he tugged the woman into the darker corners of the bar.

Martinez obviously saw what Daryl did and lit up a cigarette with disdain. Daryl caught the distinct scent of menthol. No one dared tell him that he was allowed to smoke inside.

"You look like hell, man," Martinez reiterated, jesting tone aside.

Daryl ran a thumb over his forehead. Martinez looked genuinely concerned and it was moments like this he had to remember that he wasn't really his friend or a good guy.

"Headache," he explained gruffly.

"Go home then," Martinez suggested, slapping him on the back. "Get that beauty sleep you need."

"Like that'd help," Daryl grumbled back, pushing to his feet and fishing for his bike keys.

"Hey Daryl," Martinez called after him. "You know what a good cure for a headache is?"

"Painkillers?" Daryl shrugged.

"Getting laid!"

Daryl flipped him off and the bar door shut behind him, cutting off Martinez mid cackle. He was glad to be let off early. His nights on the couch hadn't been doing much to improve his mood and he knew he'd have to devise a better solution and soon.

As he made his way up the flights of stairs from the garage, not for the first time he wished there was an elevator. Sometimes, after long days, his knees ached and the whole thing made him feel old.

Daryl had barely been inside for five minutes, not surprised to find the place silent and dark, when there was a knock on the door. Daryl immediately pulled his gun out, tension sharpening his focus and chasing away any niggling physical sensations. Without taking his eyes off the door, he flipped open the laptop one handed. He had a camera pointed at the door.

"Dixon, stop dicking around and open the door."

Daryl glared, recognising Walsh's voice. He kept his gun loose in his hand but didn't put it away. He wanted Walsh to see how close he came to getting shot.

He threw open the door and filled the entrance. "What the hell d'you want?"

Walsh had a yellow envelope which he shoved into Daryl's chest and forced him a step back. Walsh took the opportunity to sidle by him and glance around Daryl's place.

"Where's Beth?"

Only Walsh's genuine concern when he asked the question made Daryl keep a handle on his temper. He was bristling at the assumption that he couldn't protect one measly girl. Still, Walsh obviously felt bad for what Beth had gone through and seeing Walsh act like a human was rare enough to keep him in line.

"She's in the bedroom."

Walsh raised an eyebrow. "Taking the girlfriend cover seriously, aren't you?"

Daryl fingers tightened around the gun. "Don't know about you, Walsh, but I ain't never had to resort to grief stricken teenagers."

Walsh's response was a derisive grin. At least he never beat around the bush with his dislike for Daryl. In a way it was better than the sly comments he'd endured through training.

"New identity?" Daryl shook the envelope for emphasis.

Walsh nodded, heading out of the apartment much to Daryl's relief. "Just keep her alive, we owe her father that much!"

Daryl didn't retort, which showed control on his part. He toed the door shut and tipped the contents of the envelope out on to his desk. Birth certificate, drivers licence, social security for one Beth Wallace. Beth Wallace was very nearly twenty-two. She was smiling in the picture, almost unrecognizable. Daryl threw them on the table and stretched himself out on the couch. He was tired, but tired in a way that he didn't think sleep would cure. He wished he could change his name and go somewhere quiet. Maybe do a little hunting. His eyes ghosted over the closed door to his own bedroom and he grimaced. He wasn't going anywhere, he was stuck right here.

**AN: Now we can finally see a bit more about what Daryl does with whom. I'm mixing people up just a wee bit in terms of where and how they feature in the story. I've resurrected Pete because I liked Pete, I found it genuinely impressive how much integrity he still had that far into the ZA... so I made him a criminal. And the introduction of Merle. I think we all know there is more to Merle than a drunk womaniser and that will be reflected. Beth and Daryl are still at odds a little bit because Beth's grieving and Daryl is Daryl. That'll develop over time. **

**As you all know, this AU is a gamble so let me know what you're thinking/feeling. Big love to you all. **


	6. Chapter 6

Beth bit her lip and tried to resist the tug of consciousness. She could hear the quiet sounds of someone moving around outside and then the spray of water. Beth burrowed deeper into the sheets. The room was already starting to heat up, another blistering summer day in the making.

She endeavoured to tune out Daryl getting ready for work. She wasn't prepared to face reality and acknowledge that life had continued. Not just yet. She sighed with relief when she heard Daryl leave. Now she could get back to her sleep. But even though her eyes were closed, she couldn't achieve that blessed oblivion she so desperately craved.

A restless energy had crawled its way into her gut and it was hard to ignore. For the next hour Beth tossed and turned, throwing the sheets in every which way as she struggled to get comfortable.

Beth cried out in frustration, her eyes flying open. She inhaled sharply. The spices and the pine were still there but there was something else. Something stale and unpleasant. She could smell blood and vomit and despair. With horror she realised it was her.

Beth lurched out of the bed, her feet tangling in the bedding as she staggered upright. She was drenched in the scents of that night when her parents had died. Beth's weak legs carried her to the bathroom and she was shucking her shirt, violently throwing away her clothes until they ended in a tangled ball in the corner.

The bathroom was a decent size but bare like the rest of the house. She hastily turned on the taps, ducking under the water before she'd adjusted the temperature. Beth's body was hit with a blast of freezing cold. Her chest tightened and she gasped, frantically moderating the cascade of water.

When it eased into something more comfortable, Beth tilted her head under the spray, splaying her hands on the tiles. The memory of that night flashed in her mind. Beth's hair was lank and so she drenched it in water. Beth's eyes scanned the toiletries in the shower caddy. Shampoo, shower gel. Hoping Daryl wouldn't notice or mind; she popped the top off the shower gel.

The hint of spices overwhelmed her senses, driving the remnants of death away. It explained why the sheets smelled the way they did but not the hint of forest; that must just be Daryl. Beth rinsed her hair and her body, staring blankly at the non-descript blue tiles.

When her skin had begun to wrinkle she turned the water off and got out of the shower. Beth stood there for a long minute just dripping on the floor. For a second she contemplated helping herself to the grey towel on the back of the door but propriety held her back. Instead she made the proactive decision to find her own, even though it seemed like a gamble that Daryl might own more than two.

Her hand hesitated on the handle, even though she knew she had the apartment to herself. Her heart rate spiked as she stepped outside. Beth opened cupboards as quickly as she could, very aware of her own nudity. One small cupboard revealed a very small selection of linens and towels.

Beth tugged one out and wrapped it around her body. She had tracked water everywhere. Beth managed a weak smile at the unwitting destruction she'd caused. Some small part enjoyed the idea of annoying Daryl. She wanted a toothbrush and her own shampoo but yes, she'd settle for irritating Daryl.

...

Daryl walked into the crappy electronics shop and glanced around, searching for a specific person. The owner, Axel, was a man Daryl wouldn't trust to mind a pot plant but for some unknown reason he was a genius when it came to wires and gadgets. The Zombies had outsourced a number of jobs to him over the years and he'd yet to disappoint, much to Daryl's chagrin. Axel was too loud and had a habit of telling long, stupid stories.

The bell had rung when he'd walked in but Axel had failed to appear. Anyone could walk in and steal off the shelf but most of the criminals in the area were customers of Axel's in one sense or another.

Daryl was getting impatient. He had a hundred other things to attend to before his day was done. "Axel!" he hollered.

A dishevelled looking man with slept in clothes and an intimidating mustache popped his head out of the back room. A wide grin split his face at seeing Daryl standing there. It must have to do with the money he immediately expected to make because there was no way he'd be that please just on Daryl's account. Then again, Axel was weird.

"Afternoon, what can I do ya for?"

Daryl grunted, disconcerted by Axel's cheery grin. "I need some things to keep track of a person."

Axel rubbed his hands together. "My speciality." The idiot paused. "Is that creepy? Sounds kinda creepy now that I've heard my mouth say it."

"It's not creepy," Daryl cut across quickly. Left to his own devices, Axel could talk indefinitely.

"What do ya need?" Axel gestured at Daryl, inviting him to list his requirements.

Daryl rubbed the back of his neck. "Need to be able to keep track of a person. See where they're goin', if they leave a, uh, designated area. Something they can't take off."

Axel nodded, not looking the least bit phased. He'd done a lot business for the Zombies. He'd had weirder specifications. Bending easily, Axel slid out a concealed draw and dropped it loudly on the counter.

Daryl looked at the chunky devices. They'd stick out like a sore thumb on his limbs, they'd completely swamp Beth.

"You have anything more discrete?"

Axel's eyebrows lifted. "They're not a-," He leaned forward and lowered his voice, "a _prisoner_?"

Daryl considered the question. "No," he decided though he wasn't sure Beth would agree. "This is a protection detail."

Axel nodded thoughtfully and stroked his mustache. "Watch or bracelet?"

Daryl cleared his throat awkwardly. "Bracelet."

Axel's lips twisted into a crooked grin. "I see," he said in such a way that Daryl immediately wanted to correct him but Axel had already ducked into the back.

He returned quickly and showed Daryl what was available. They were large, gaudy and tacky. Daryl didn't know much about jewellery but he couldn't see Beth Greene wearing any of that. "They're huge," Daryl noted. He didn't know why he cared but he didn't want Beth to be reminded of her captivity every time she chanced a look at her wrist.

"They have to be able to hide the tracker," Axel explained, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.

Daryl sighed and sifted through the box, trying to find something that stood out. Pressed up against the corner was a simple silver band with a blue stone, the same sky blue as Beth's eyes. Daryl looped it over his finger and held it up with a quizzical expression.

"Some of my better work. The tracker is in the stone. Once it's on, they'll need a bolt cutter to get it off."

Daryl was impressed. It didn't look that strong. "It'll do," Daryl announced curtly, not wanting to reward Axel by showing his approval of his work.

Axel's grin was blinding. Money was money and he was used to his customers' surly attitude.

"One other thing," Daryl broached. "Can you set up a mobile to only call this number?" Daryl fished out a rolled up piece of paper with his cell number scrawled on it.

Axel picked it up, nodding. "Surely can. Just this number?" he clarified.

"_Just_ that number," Daryl confirmed.

Axel shrugged and went to walk out the back.

"Wait," Daryl called. "Can you add the emergency services to the list?" he asked grudgingly.

Axel's forehead creased in confusion. Normally the authorities weren't high on the list of people to contact.

"In case of a fire," Daryl grumbled. Axel didn't ask any more questions, which was showing super human restraint.

When Daryl made finally got home, he had Chinese take away and a bag with Beth's new items. He was exhausted as he kicked the door shut behind him. And now he had to go wrestle Beth out of bed and coax her into eating something.

"Beth!" he shouted, giving her fair warning that he was coming and to start the process.

"What?" a voice demanded, head popping up over the back of the couch. Daryl had dropped the bag with the bracelet and the new cell and was reaching for his gun before he registered it was Beth.

"Jesus Christ! I almost shot you!"

Beth fixed him with a stare that was more coherent than anything she'd managed for a long time.

"I'm not allowed to leave the apartment. Where were you expecting to find me?"

Daryl pointed at the bedroom. "In my bed!"

Daryl realised how that sounded and quickly stooped to pick up the bag to hide the mild blush in his cheeks. Beth didn't notice.

She was chewing on her bottom lip. "I'm trying something different." It appeared she was having a tough time just being awake.

It was Daryl's instinct to mock her for such a minor achievement but he held his tongue. For this girl, small victories were important. Daryl sighed and sat down on the couch. Her hair was fluffy and he realised with a start that she had showered. That was actually monumental and it explained why the scent of his shower gel was suddenly so pervasive in the apartment. He didn't know he felt about Beth smelling like him so he brushed past it.

"Hope you like Chinese," he said in a way that implied it didn't matter.

Beth's face didn't reveal her thoughts either way; she quietly took the container he offered her. Daryl was startled she didn't fight him on it. Surprised and grateful.

He let her eat for a few undisturbed minutes before fishing the phone out. He put it on the coffee table and slid it across to her. Beth tracked the movement with her eyes.

"A phone?"

He saw the hope blossom in her eyes and very nearly felt like an asshole for what he said next. Almost. "Don't get too excited, you can only call me for emergencies."

Beth wilted a little but she brushed her fingers over the device all the same.

"And if the place is burnin' down, you can call the fire brigade," Daryl added.

Beth smiled shyly at that. It transformed her and she looked like the girl on her new licence. Which reminded him, he hadn't talked about the new identity with her.

"I got your new ID on the desk. You need to memorise the information," Daryl instructed her.

Beth looked nervous and Daryl felt compelled to reassure her. "It'll be easy, the only real difference is the birthday an' the new last name."

A strangled sound escaped Beth and Daryl realised his mistake too late. She'd lost so much and just like that, she lost another tie to who she was, what her life had been. He didn't think he could fix it so he ignored it.

So he didn't have to see her sad face, he found the tracking bracelet. Without preamble he grabbed her wrist and dragged her closer to him. The sadness was replaced with shock and she jumped under his touch.

Daryl flicked his eyes upward at her twitch. "You alright?"

"Yeah," Beth mumbled. Daryl got the sense she was lying but he couldn't think of what it would be now so he went for his tried and true method. Pretending he hadn't noticed.

"Keep still," he instructed as he carefully worked the clasp.

"This is a tracking bracelet," Daryl explained. "I'll take the lock off the inside of the door tomorrow."

"So I can go outside?"

"No you cannot," he answered, but with a wry grin to soften the reality.

Beth sighed and slid the new bracelet around her wrist. "It's pretty," she commented unexpectedly.

Daryl's shoulders tensed. "It was all they had." Now who was lying?

Daryl raked a hand through his hair, unsure why he felt weird all of a sudden. Nothing had happened except for him explaining in great detail the terms of Beth's unwilling captivity.

"Eat your food," he commanded harshly so that Beth would stop looking at him. Those sky blue eyes felt like pin pricks all up and down his arms. And for the life of him he couldn't understand why.

**AN: And we've gotten Beth out of bed. And introduced even more familiar characters, who are hopefully behaving similar to themselves on the show but an entirely different context. Please let me know what you think. As you can probably tell, even though it's subtle now, it's begun. **


	7. Chapter 7

Beth's eyes snapped open and she was suddenly wide awake. Not groggy, not lethargic, just totally alert. For the first time since her parents had died, she didn't feel numb. Beth wasn't sure this was an improvement. She could still feel the piercing ache in her heart like a hum in the background. She glanced at the clock and was surprised to discover it was still early in the morning.

Beth lay there on her back for a long moment, studying the ceiling like it might suddenly have the answers to her problems. It stayed an innocuous blank canvas, functional but not epiphany worthy.

She decided abruptly that she wouldn't spend another day in bed. With resolution, she clambered out of the bed and headed for the shower. With the benefit of a level head, Beth was actually able to spend some time making the temperature comfortable before getting under the spray of water.

Yesterdays shower woke her up, had resurrected her, but today she let the water just run over her body without intent, easing her muscles out of the tight knots they had formed. It was the kind of shower that would have had her father banging on the door and telling her to stop wasting time. While she thought about Hershel, her breathing was uneven but she didn't cry and she kept her feet. She was going to be strong from this point on out.

She spared a thought for Daryl's water bill but one glance at the new bracelet reinforced her defiance. It wasn't an ugly piece of jewellery but that couldn't disguise what it really was; a shackle. She prayed that the shower would mess up its internal functions, even though that was probably unlikely.

With a sigh, Beth used the spicy body wash again. When she saw Daryl next, she would have to discuss getting things of her own. With a wince, she remembered she still hadn't brushed her teeth. When Beth got out of the shower, she wrapped the towel tight around her body. Feeling a little bit naughty, but not enough to stop, she plucked open the medicine cabinet. It was about as exciting as every other part of the apartment. Most of the space was dominated by an impressive first aid kit and Beth figured that's what saw the most usage. Pushed up against the corner was an overlooked bottle of mouthwash and Beth pulled it out. Judging it was safe to use, Beth took a mouthful, swished it around before spitting it out. The mint burned her nose and made her eyes water but in lieu of proper toiletries, that would have to do.

Beth got dressed quickly and found her way to the couch, intending on spending some time learning to navigate the TV but she spotted her new cell phone on the coffee table next the remote. Beth picked it up and a spark of optimism penetrated her body. Daryl had said it could only call his phone or the fire brigade but Beth didn't think that sounded likely. It was probable he was just scaring her into complying with his stupid rules.

With shaking hands she pressed the digits for Maggie's cell into the phone. She waited with baited breath for the sound of ringing but an obnoxious beep just blared in her ear. She tried Shawn's next with similar results. Beth paused and felt the hope leave as suddenly as it had come. Just in case their phones had been disconnected for safety reasons, Beth finally tried Jimmy's number. There was nothing and Beth glared at the phone with frustration.

She was still cut off from everyone she loved and everything she remembered. Indignant, Beth shoved herself to her feet. Daryl had promised he'd turn the lock off the door and Beth tested the handle. She was shocked when it swung inwards; Daryl had been true to his word.

Beth glanced over her shoulder and then marched down the stairs, obstinately leaving the door swung wide behind her. She didn't know what she was thinking but she was sick of feeling like a useless prisoner being grudgingly kept by a surly stranger. There was no natural light as she made her way down the building. It was eerie to say the least, no sounds of other occupants and from the dust she saw on the handles, Beth was beginning to think that she and Daryl had the building to themselves.

By the time she reached the ground level, her heart was pounding. She reached out a tentative hand to push open the bottom door and then she was outside in proper sunshine. Beth sucked in a breath of hot, muggy Georgian air. She didn't care how crappy the neighbourhood looked, she was going to pick a direction and run that way. She suspected she wouldn't be free for long, the mysterious 'organisation' would have her back to Daryl soon enough but she would enjoy those moments of illusion. She'd taken one step when the phone buzzed in her hand. Beth had taken it outside without thinking.

Curiously she opened the text message on the screen.

_Go THE FUCK back inside, Beth!_

Beth's eyes darted around, half expecting Daryl to pop up from behind a trash can. With distaste she looked back at the bracelet. It wasn't just for tracking apparently. Daryl had clearly rigged it to tell him if she crossed the threshold of the building.

Hot tears pricked at her eyes as she thought about how silly she was to imagine that she could get away from this mess. Beth had never been a rebellious teenager and she'd never felt the need to revolt against her parents. But she was feeling defiant now. She was half tempted to stay exactly where she was, sit down on the pavement, forcing Daryl to drop whatever he was doing and come deal with the situation. But Beth could quite clearly picture Daryl's flashing eyes if she put him in that position. She suspected that Agent Dixon would never lay a hand on her but something about him scared her.

With a mournful sigh, she trudged back up the steps, leaving behind the blinding sunshine for the dank stairwell. Beth shut the door to Daryl's apartment and glanced around resentfully. She tugged half heartedly at the bracelet around her wrist. It just carved a red dent into her skin but showed no signs of budging.

It was by chance that she spotted her new ID. She caught a glimpse of blond hair. Curiosity and zero respect for Daryl's personal space motivated her to pick it up. The picture they had chosen made her pause. It wasn't that old but it might as well have been a lifetime ago. In the original she was standing between Shawn and Maggie while her beaming father took the photo. The licence had been doctored so that she was the only person that could be seen but Beth could still remember every sensation of that happy day. Her smile made her look like a different person; content, healthy and glowing, nothing like the pale wraith she was now.

Beth squinted at the new information. Beth Wallace. She made a face. There had been a Holden Wallace at her school and she did not have any fond memories of the boy. He'd been a bully and he'd smelt most of the time. Beth logically knew that they hadn't chosen the name with any intention to link her to the Wallaces she was acquainted with but she wished they'd picked different.

Her new age reflected how she felt more closely. She really did feel like she had aged years in just a week. Beth flung them back on to the desk, not bothering to memorise the information just yet. Unexpectedly she heard a soft rumbling noise. It took Beth a few beats to realise what it was because she was unfamiliar with it of late. She was hungry.

...

Daryl stared at his phone angrily. The first vibration had let him know Beth had left the building. His attention sharpened and he'd hastily typed a text under the table to tell Beth to get the hell back inside. Now he was waiting for a second vibration to let him know she'd obeyed. He was hoping sheer force of will would get her to do what he told her to. He really didn't want to have to get up and fix the problem in person.

"We keeping you from something, Daryl?" Martinez' voice was edgy. And Daryl couldn't blame him. They were discussing something important.

His phone vibrated the second time, his chest instantly relaxing. "Nah, boss," he said, swivelling his attention back to Martinez. His dark eyes flashed, sensing that Daryl was lying but not pushing the issue.

The Zombies were the heavy hitters in Georgia but they weren't the only gang. They might have their fingers in a lot of pies but their main competition when it came to drug running were the Ángeles de la muerte, the Angels of death. The Angels were a primarily Hispanic gang that were particularly vicious and territorial. They seemed to find it personally offensive that Martinez had gone his own direction and created a much more ethnically diverse organisation. The difference was Martinez had no interest in basking in a cultural brotherhood, he was a business man. He would rather have the best people at his back regardless of what colour their skin was. Martinez and Pete had been friends since grade school, living in a shitty neighbourhood and dreaming of bigger things. Daryl could only imagine what the pair of them might have accomplished if they hadn't strayed into illegal avenues.

The Angels were being extra aggressive lately and Martinez was worried it would threaten a drop they had planned next week. That was why Daryl really should have been paying attention. Essentially he and Merle served as enforcers, dirty bodyguards. If there was one thing the Dixon brothers excelled at, it was violence.

It was going to be where Daryl justified his pay check, both his criminal one and his official one. He might actually die on these ridiculous turf wars. He was lucky Martinez was a stickler for planning. It kept them from being arrested through the normal channels but it also meant Daryl's odds of surviving were greatly increased. Merle's chances too not that Merle usually needed much help. Had the Devil's own luck, his brother but since the whole reason Daryl was bogged down with this crew was to save Merle's ass, he appreciated it all the same.

Daryl was frustrated and tired by the time they finished up. Hours had passed as they went over and over contingencies and emergency plans. He'd bit his tongue but even after all his training he was still more of a doer than a thinker.

Martinez was winding down when Daryl's phone went off again. He'd left it on the table after the debacle with Beth and there was no disguising the loud vibrations against the wood. Martinez waved his permission to take the call. Daryl could have sworn bloody murder when he saw Beth's name flash up on the display.

He snatched it up before Merle could read the name. Maybe his caginess was more suspicious though because Merle's gaze turned contemplative. It was a reminder that despite Merle's reckless behaviour he had a brain in his skull and a mistrustful nature, even where his own brother was concerned. It had taken them a long time to repair their relationship after the fight that had seen Daryl kick Merle out of his life. Daryl had stomached the reunion and had surprised himself by discovering he had missed his brother, flaws and all, but the repair was tenuous even years on.

Daryl stalked out of the room before answering. "What?" he snapped into the phone.

There was a pause on the other end though he could hear breathing.

"I'm hungry," Beth finally shared, sounding pitiful.

Daryl wanted to pitch the phone into the wall. He was in a mood and Beth was the safest target. "The phone's for emergencies. This don't constitute an emergency! Eat something in the fridge."

There was another extended silence and Daryl hoped she wouldn't cry at his harsh words. "You don't have any food. You have beer."

That pulled Daryl up. Did he not have anything in his fridge? He wasn't exactly domestic but _nothing_?

"Nothing?" he asked out loud, airing his incredulity.

"There is... I think it's a burger," Beth concluded.

"Think?"

"I can't see past the mould," Beth explained. He caught a slightly judgemental undercurrent now and it made him raise his eyebrows.

"Is that a tone?" he demanded.

"So what if it is?" Her snark was reduced by the waver he heard. Still Daryl kind of respected her efforts to sass him, even if it'd fallen short. Sounds of movement drifted over the phone. There was the swoosh of plastic and the thud of something impacting; Daryl suspected the 'burger' had been introduced to the bin.

Daryl rubbed at his temples, a headache beginning already. "I'll bring something home when I'm done here."

"Not take out again," Beth grumbled. It made Daryl squint at the wall. First she was sniping at him and now she was complaining? That was two firsts in one day.

"What the hell else am I gonna feed you?" Daryl asked, bewildered. He knew he was talking about Beth like she was in fact a pet.

"Go to the grocery store," Beth suggested calmly enough but there was still an edge when she spoke.

"I can't cook!" Daryl blurted out, horrified.

"I can," she said quietly. "You bring me the things I need and I'll cook."

Daryl paused and considered the offer. If she was feeling up to it than who was he to stop her? He couldn't remember the last time he'd even had a home cooked meal. It had been too long.

"Sure," he finally agreed, not seeing the harm in indulging her in this. "Text me what you need."

"Thanks." Beth sounded breathy with relief. "Goodb-"

Daryl hung up mid way through her farewell. Pete was just leaving the room.

"All done in there?" he asked.

Pete nodded with a tired smiled. "I think it'll run smoothly."

Daryl disagreed but Pete was an optimist. He had faith in Martinez' ability to lead and he trusted the people at his back. Not for the first time, Daryl felt his stomach clench with guilt. He liked Pete. In a different life, they might have been friends.

Daryl's phone vibrated loudly and his eyes widened slightly as he scrolled through the list Beth had sent.

"Things good?" Pete asked, catching his expression.

"Not really," Daryl confessed. "But it's my issue."

Pete shrugged, not one for prying. Merle would have tried to get it out of him. "Fair enough, man."

Daryl turned his attention back to his screen while Pete drifted off. He shook his head. Who exactly was Beth planning on feeding? The pair of them or all of Atlanta?

**AN: More actual interactions this time round but I like this chapter, because Beth is becoming coherent and proactive. And Daryl's patience is fraying. Review please, it makes me happy. Imagine a shining person running around a sunny field throwing daisies in the air. This is how I feel when I get reviews.**


	8. Chapter 8

Daryl pulled out his phone again as he entered the grocery store. He ignored the nervous glance one of the staff shot in his direction and scrolled through the list again. He wanted to double check that Beth hadn't actually lost her mind but nope. The food he understood but the toiletries? Like he was some kind of personal shopper. He gritted his teeth and focused on the groceries first. It was unfortunately over too soon and he was stuck in an aisle he had managed to more or less avoid most of his life. It was too pink and it smelt like artificial flowers. It made his nose tingle.

Beth wanted a toothbrush, shampoo and conditioner. Daryl knew she'd been using his things and he was half tempted to let that arrangement stand but when he thought back to the night he realised she smelt like him, his stomach tightened uncomfortably. He didn't understand the sensation and he obstinately refused to focus on it.

Daryl stared at the wall of products and wished it was as small as the male section. He had no idea what the hell she'd want. He'd decided to just reach out and grab the first bottle his fingers made contact with.

"Getting in touch with your feminine side?" a cheerful voice asked.

Daryl winced, recognising the voice. He looked over his shoulder and saw Martinez' wife, Karen regarding him with a raised eyebrow and a warm smile.

Daryl scratched his forehead and quickly tried to think up an excuse that would keep Beth his secret for a little while longer.

Karen's eyes shifted to the bottle of shampoo he'd very nearly picked up. "You don't strike me as a 'frangipani' man."

Daryl's breath snaked out with a hiss. "It ain't for me," he confessed.

Karen's grin widened as his obvious discomfort. Daryl wished it had been anyone but Karen. Anyone else he could tell to go fuck themselves. But he liked Karen. She'd been nice to him since they'd met and considering Daryl's edgy, touchy behaviour that was an impressive feat. Most people had kept him at arm's length but Karen hadn't been fazed by any of his bristling or snappy comments. She had embraced him like he was family. It made his job harder; he hadn't anticipated liking any of the gang members or their spouses. Hell, he hadn't liked anyone before.

"So who's the girl?" Karen pressed, crossing her arms. "You and Merle got a long lost cousin in town?"

Daryl made a face, knowing that Karen did not actually think he had a long lost anything in town. She was teasing him, one of the few people he let get away with it because it was affectionate and not mean. Daryl had plenty of experience picking the difference.

"It's for my-" Daryl steeled himself, "-my girlfriend."

Karen looked a little taken back. Maybe she'd guessed some of it but Daryl admitting to have a girlfriend was unexpected.

"You have a girlfriend?"

"It's new," Daryl said with a shrug, trying to downplay it. Karen bit her lip to smother another grin and nodded, humouring him obviously.

He groaned. "Just ask your questions."

Karen reached out and squeezed his upper arm. "I know you like your privacy. Just tell me her name."

"Beth." Saying her name felt strange. He'd managed to compartmentalise her away from the rest of his life but he knew this would be the start of the end.

"What's she like?" Karen asked.

"You only wanted to know her name a minute ago," he grumbled, throwing an icy glare in her direction, which Karen was immune to.

"I'm greedy."

"She's..." Daryl trailed off, drawing an absolute blank. "She's fun," he eventually offered weakly. Fun was the antithesis of what Beth was. Morose, distant and grief stricken, sure. Fun? Not so much.

"Pretty?"

"Yes," Daryl affirmed and then blinked. He hadn't hesitated to answer that question. That uncensored reaction seemed to satisfy Karen.

"Alright, darling, you seemed to be struggling. How can I help?"

Daryl was half tempted to refuse her offer but Beth's sad eyes swam in his mind. If doing something as small as getting her some shower things she might like would make her happy than maybe it was something he could do.

"If you really feel the need t'meddle," Daryl grunted, accepting gracelessly.

Karen's smile turned wry but she turned her attention to the intimidating wall of products.

"Any hints?" Karen invited.

Daryl struggled to collect what he knew about Beth. "She's from the country, simple and natural." He couldn't tell her what Beth preferred or anything like that. Karen mused on what he told her and Daryl hoped she wouldn't be suspicious by how little he could offer her. He prayed she'd chalk it up to his typical reticence to share anything personal.

Karen passed him two bottles, shampoo and conditioner. He looked bewildered and Karen saw his confusion and winked. "She'll like it."

"Thank you," Daryl said gruffly.

"You should bring her to Martinez' birthday in three weeks. Then we can all meet the woman brave enough to put up with Daryl Dixon."

"Not sure she'll be around that long yet," Daryl said vaguely. That wasn't necessarily a lie. The Governor had eluded capture for a few decades before this point. He didn't think Beth would end up stuck with him for that long but a few months, yeah that was a real possibility. Daryl was looking at too long on the couch either way.

"Is she living with you?" Karen asked causally.

Daryl caught her sly attempt to garner more information and had to fight a chuckle at her persistence. "She's around a lot." Which wasn't a fabrication.

"And you're putting girly things in your house? How sweet."

Daryl rolled his eyes at her. "You done?"

"You need help picking out tampons next?"

"What!" Daryl demanded, mouth dropping open. He wanted to scold Karen for being ridiculous.

And then, Daryl Dixon had the very real desire to drop to the ground and have a panic attack because, while Karen was joking, it was suddenly a glaring reality. It was no secret, he didn't know a lot about teenagers but he was pretty sure that Beth was old enough to have that issue. Daryl made the abrupt decision that he would talk to Grimes, wrangle some permission to take Beth out of the apartment. Surely he could swing supervised trips to the local supermarket.

Daryl turned to Karen with a pleading look in his eyes. She laughed and pulled him further down the aisle.

...

Beth was beginning to think it was Daryl's intention to let her just sit there and waste away while he did whatever the hell it was that he did. Beth could have gotten up and done something to distract herself from the hunger but part of her was relishing in it. It was the first time she'd felt anything that wasn't numbness or heart wrenching agony. So she secretly enjoyed the gnawing in her belly that informed her she'd eaten too little lately.

This was the first sign she was ready to start getting strong again. Maybe she was stuck in this apartment but she wouldn't be a weakling. If they needed her for _anything_ she'd be ready.

Just when she was beginning to give up hope that she would see any food she heard the door open.

Beth sat up on the couch. Daryl appeared in the doorway looking harassed.

"Where have you been?" Beth asked, trying to keep the note of shrill accusation to a minimum.

Daryl cut his gaze to her and Beth felt the hair on her arms prickle. Those blue eyes were glacial on her skin. For a second she worried she had pushed him too far but then the stare softened, not a lot but enough.

Daryl had a few bags in his hands and he made his way into the kitchen. Beth swiftly got to her feet and followed him. Her stomach audibly growled, loud enough for Daryl to turn around and send an incredulous stare at her.

"Got all the things you asked for," he prefaced.

"All of them?" she asked, biting her thumb nail. A single bag was thrust in her direction.

"Go find somewhere to store that crap," he instructed. His attention was taken by putting things away in the cupboard and so he missed Beth's tiny smile. Trusting that Daryl could manage without her guidance for a few minutes, she took her new bag of belongings to the shower.

Beth opened it and pulled out a bottle of conditioner. She popped the lid and inhaled the creamy scent of cinnamon and honey. She had just put the shampoo and conditioner in the shower when she noticed there was something left in the bag. Beth wrinkled her nose in confusion and then shock. She was holding a small blue box of tampons. She peaked around as if Daryl might suddenly be standing behind her. She carefully put them in the medicine cabinet; out of sight, out of mind.

She shut the cabinet, realising that Daryl now had feminine hygiene products in the bathroom. It struck her as absurdly hilarious and she giggled. It was a broken strangled giggle but it escaped her throat all the same.

Beth's cheeks were a little red by the time she got back to the kitchen but Daryl didn't appear to notice.

"What did you say you wanted to make?"

"Spaghetti bolognaise," Beth explained slowly. She figured she'd start easy, maybe Daryl could even replicate it. Daryl's only reply was a grunt.

He hovered in the corner of the room as she set about boiling pasta and cooking mince. Having an audience was both intimidating and annoying. She fished a wooden spoon out of a drawer and passed it to Daryl. "Stir the mince if you're going to linger." She was impressed her voice didn't waver.

Daryl's eyes flashed but he did the as he was told. "Y'know your way 'round my kitchen pretty well," Daryl noted dryly, Southern accent more obvious than ever.

The reason was Beth's snooping. She didn't think Daryl would appreciate that answer so she shrugged. "Guess I'm just a natural." Her face felt a little hot at her lie and it wasn't her imagination that Daryl's features looked a little pinched.

Beth set about dicing tomatoes. She really did enjoy cooking. It conjured happy memories of better times.

Daryl watched the ease with which she wielded the knife. "Where'd you learn t'do that?"

"My mother," Beth replied instantly. She was focused on her task so she couldn't see Daryl's face but she saw him take a tiny step back in her peripheral.

"Its fine," Beth assured him, even though her voice was a smidgeon hoarse. It wasn't overwhelmingly convincing but it halted Daryl's retreat.

Beth started in on a new tomato and she saw a hand sneak over her shoulder. She swatted Daryl's hand away without thinking, just like her mother would have done to her father if he tried to steal food. But Daryl wasn't her father and for a second she worried he might be offended about her shooing him away.

When she risked a glance, she saw he looked wryly amused. That's probably because he'd been fast enough to pilfer a piece of fresh tomato. With a challenging smirk he popped into his mouth and Beth shook her head.

Feeling bolder, she bumped him out of the way of the stove with her hip so that she could scrape the ingredients into the saucepan.

"Can you get me the vegemite?" Beth requested.

Daryl's eyebrows drew together. "I wondered about that. You know how much that shit costs? I found it on a dusty bottom shelf. S'from Austria or somethin'."

Beth struggled to open the lid. "_Australia_," she corrected. "It goes in the sauce."

"That's disgusting!"

Beth bit her lip, trying to focus on the stubborn lid and field Daryl's questions. "It's not."

"It is," Daryl disagreed. He huffed in frustration at her efforts. He covered her hands with his own and twisted. The plastic left little indents in her skin but the top gave and she could open it.

"Thanks." Beth flexed her fingers. It was the first time he had touched her when he didn't have to. "My mother taught me this," Beth explained. "Just a small spoonful."

"Still sounds gross," Daryl sulked.

"Trust me, ok," Beth requested. Daryl looked like she'd asked him to gouge his own eyes out rather than appealed for a little faith. But it stopped his protests. Daryl's mouth sealed into a thin line and nodded once.

Beth tried to forget the simmering man surveying her every move. When the sauce was starting to bubble, Beth took a tiny portion and tasted it. It tasted perfect, just like her mother would make. Daryl was still sceptical so Beth gestured him over while she dipped the small spoon in again.

Daryl hesitated but then took an awkward step closer. He took the spoon and gingerly tasted the contents. She saw his reaction and grinned.

"Ya don't have to look so pleased with yourself," he groaned but it lacked any bite.

"See what a little trust will get you."

Daryl's features clouded over and Beth had a second to wonder what she had said before he hastened out of the kitchen.

**AN: Hello everyone. This chapter was on the lighter side (yay, right?), and I've introduced Karen. To the guest who asked, I've had no formal training in writing. I just wing it and hope for the best. So far so good.**

**The vegemite is a legit thing. My housemate does it all the time and it's un-freaking-believable Maybe it was OOC but eh, I liked their little discussion over it. I even did some googling to find out how easy it was to find vegemite over there (not easy). Anyway, you should totally try it next time you have an opportunity. Just a teaspoon in Spag Bol (Because Australians can and will shorten every word they can get their hands on, without mercy). Review please. Huzzah!**


	9. Chapter 9

_Daryl's fingers itched to light a smoke. It'd been too long since he'd had one and he was trying to cut back. Not out of any choice he'd made but because of an order. The fact he now received 'orders' made his toes curl with indignation. He'd coped too many of them growing up from his father and Daryl knew that no matter what he did, no matter how hard he'd tried, his father was never satisfied and out would come the belt. So Daryl had given up. As soon as he escaped that shit hole, he'd decided to hell with orders and expectations and social conventions. Daryl was going to do whatever he wanted to. The consequences be damned._

_And now he was neck deep in an organisation, of which he still didn't know the fucking name, and he was being told to cut back on smoking. Cigarettes had been one of his consistent pleasures growing up, way before he was legal to buy them. For a savvy, determined kid, there was always a way to find stuff like that. He'd dabbled in booze and tobacco young but he'd abstained from drugs. Probably because he got an eyeful in his early teens of what his brother was like when high. _

_When he'd protested, Grimes had simply pointed out the physical nature of the job wouldn't allow for shoddy lungs. He had to be able to run and fight. He'd smirked and informed them he certainly knew how to fight. That quip had him doing laps for two hours. Daryl's lungs had burned the whole time, his chest shrinking to the size of walnut as he struggled to breath. When he'd been given permission to stop, Daryl had promptly thrown up on their state of the art running track. He'd been smugly pleased with that little act of defiance, even if it was more embarrassing than rebellious. He'd gone home that night and removed the packet of cigarettes from his pocket. He didn't throw them out, he wasn't quite there yet, but he put them on a high shelf, out of sight and out of mind, deeming them only for emergencies._

_The reason Daryl wasn't smoking right this second wasn't because of lack of the right ingredients, or even that bullshit regulation. He was deep in the library, in between two towering rows of books and he knew the smoke alarms dotted around the building weren't for show. Daryl should have been in class but he was having a bad day. Two months into this training and he was struggling. If he thought the urgency of the matter would have expedited his training then he was sadly disappointed. Daryl was training with people almost a decade younger and if occasionally he was a smirking jackass, then these guys were consummate assholes. It was this place. It bred competition and Daryl was the hillbilly that nobody could quite work out how he got an invite._

_A figure rounded the corner, both he and Daryl jumped upon sighting the other. _

"_Jesus," Daryl swore. His cursing was still a problem that couldn't be fixed no matter how many suggestions he'd gotten to improve it. He spoke how he spoke and that was the end of it._

_The man didn't swear but he looked just as surprised to find Daryl lurking down this part of the library. No one usually made it this far into the large library._

"_Sorry to disturb you," the man began politely, scanning the books with his eyes. When he spoke, Daryl recognised the voice. He was one of his lecturers. Ancient languages or something useless like that. _

_Daryl shrugged. "S'no problem," he grunted and prepared to leave._

"_You're Dixon right?" the man asked, startling Daryl again. He shouldn't have been shocked to find that he was memorable; he stuck out like a sore thumb._

"_That's me." Daryl made his confirmation sound like a challenge._

_The man didn't react. He was in his late fifties as far as Daryl could tell. "Shouldn't you be in class?" he followed up with another question. _

"_No," Daryl lied, shirking his eyes towards the ground. The man noted something off in his tone and stopped thumbing the spines of books to look properly at Daryl._

_A look of dawning comprehension crossed his face. "Oh so you're hiding."_

"_The fuck I am! I don't hide."_

"_Oh alright, what else would you call this?" The man quirked an eyebrow and Daryl wanted to hit him but he was too old for Daryl to strike so he settled for glaring. _

"_I'm protesting."_

"_What exactly?" The man looked amused. _

"_It's a stupid, pointless class," Daryl grumbled. _

"_There are one or two of those around," the man humoured him and Daryl bit down the urge to identify ancient languages as one of those redundant classes."Which one?"_

"_Psychology," Daryl complained._

_The man exhaled suddenly and loudly. He was trying to cover a snort, making Daryl simmer. "I think, considering where you work and what you do, you might want to reconsider going to that class."_

"_Listen mister-"_

"_Dale, my name's Dale."_

"_Dale, I don't wanna go to a class and listen to a bunch'a jeering, sneering dumbasses making fun of me just 'cause I don't have no fancy education. Stupid pups think they know so much an' they're just barely outta home." Daryl brought himself up short, realising his tirade might not be appropriate to share with a teacher here._

_Dale leaned against the stacks and rubbed his jaw. "There are a few punks here," he agreed and Daryl's eyebrows lifted in bewilderment._

"_You think we don't know?" Dale asked wryly. "It's a given. You need a certain amount of arrogance and ego to do this job." _

"_I don't," Daryl disagreed. His confidence in a scrap didn't translate that well into real life. The different martial arts and fighting styles had been a breeze, not to mention guns or archery. It was the thinking lessons that had him over a barrel. He sure as hell hoped Merle would end up appreciating the work he'd put into this though the chances of that were slim to none. If this paid off and he was sent out into the field then he imagined his subterfuge would be rewarded by his big brother's fist in his face. _

_Daryl's shoulder slumped. "I ain't cut out for this." _

_Dale scoffed at that statement. "They're not picking on you because you're different. They're targeting you because they sense this." Dale poked Daryl in the centre of his chest and Daryl swiped the hand away."This vulnerability and fear. They're like a pack of wolves, they can smell weakness."_

_This made sense to Daryl in a strange way. "Then I'm screwed because I ain't ever going to be good at this."_

"_Bullshit."_

"_What'd you say?"_

"_I said bullshit. You're in one of my classes, you're not stupid. You're not trying." _

_Daryl spluttered at this. "Not tryin'?" _

"_Nope," Dale said, cutting him off before he could get out an excuse. "Not trying. You walked into my classroom, probably every other one as well, and decided it was all too hard."_

_Daryl was staring in open mouthed shock at the dressing down he was receiving. He frantically turned over insults in his brain, hoping he could fling one at Dale and shut the man and his uncomfortable truths up. _

"_Ah," Dale cried mid rant; he stopped talking to pluck a book off the shelf. "There it is."_

_Daryl blinked at the other man, wondering if he was crazy. He couldn't be, he'd just pegged Daryl with uncanny accuracy. It took Dale almost a minute to realise that Daryl was still standing there._

"_I can help you with your classes," he offered._

"_I'm not a charity case," Daryl avowed, reclaiming some of his typical surliness._

"_Didn't say you were. But everyone needs help now and again." Dale's expression was thoughtful and Daryl didn't know what to do with kindness for kindness sake._

"_If you wanna waste your time," Daryl accepted the offer grudgingly. _

_Dale's smile was small and not gloating which made Daryl feel slightly better about the situation. Once upon a time, if he'd accepted or asked for assistance, he'd have been mocked mercilessly. Dale made to leave but Daryl stopped him with one more question._

"_Why?"_

_Dale tilted his chin. "Not everyone here had a fancy education, Mr Dixon."_

"_Daryl," he corrected._

"_I'll let you get back to your 'protest' but come by my office sometime." _

...

Beth had set an alarm. She had used her brand new phone and though it couldn't be used to contact anyone but Daryl and the emergency services, it still had all the standard features one would come to expect on a mobile. A calculator, an alarm, a camera. When the alarm went off she made her way into the shower and used her own shampoo and conditioner to wash her hair. Having her own products was both a blessing and a curse. It was nice having something that belonged to her, a way to claim a small stake of territory in this spartan apartment. But it was also bad because it reflected that this situation wasn't temporary. She still used Daryl's spiced shower gel and she told herself it was because that was something Daryl had forgotten to get her and not because she liked the scent.

Having something to focus on took the razor edge off her grief. It was still there, all Beth had to do was think about her parents and heat would start in her neck and trail down her spine, but it was becoming something she could hold in her body and not feel like she'd explode.

She was flushed with the decision to help, to live. And then she sat on the couch for the next few hours. The whole experience was anti-climactic and Beth could feel dangerous disappointment begin to worm its way back into her mindset. Beth glanced at the open bedroom and seriously thought about just getting up and going back to bed.

Ashamed of her own quick leanings toward defeat, Beth pushed to her feet and began trailing around the apartment. It had seemed big enough until she realised she was trapped inside with nothing but the television and Daryl for company. The daytime programming was not inspiring and sitting there and staring at that was only one step up from lying catatonic in the bed.

She wished Daryl had more things so that she could spy on him, invade his privacy and his life much as he had done to her. But Daryl only seemed to own the clothes on his back. There were no books, no movies, nothing that could pass the time for her. She went back into the bedroom and collected her dirty clothes into a pile. She didn't know the laundry situation was but she guessed that the building would have to have some kind of room designated for the task.

Beth opened the front door and went exploring. She was less scared of the building now that she knew no one was here. She briefly wondered what was behind every door but when she tested them, she found them locked. Beth made a mental note to have a good look for keys when she got back to the top floor but for now she stuck to her destination, the basement. One door led to the garage, which housed the beat up blue truck. Beth noted that the motorbike was missing. Remembering what she saw Daryl wearing when he came home from work; it made sense that the bike was his primary mode of transportation.

The other door lead to a small, dirty laundry that didn't look like it got visited much. Beth had to put her shoulder into pushing the door open and it yielded with a screech. All the machines took small change and Beth was reminded sharply that she had no money. She was completely dependent on Daryl for everything. Beth put a hand on the wall to support herself. Her knees suddenly felt too weak to hold her weight and her head was spinning. Taking slow, deep breaths, she managed to get herself under control.

The trip back up to Daryl's apartment took longer than the trip down. She lamented the lack of an elevator because the days of lying prostrate in bed had taken its toll on her muscles. Beth let herself back in and trailed absent fingers along the boxing bag suspended from the roof. She had never boxed but it put an idea in her head. She would have to find some way in the small apartment to build her strength up. Beth hadn't played many team sports but she'd always considered herself fit and strong despite her small frame. She didn't want to be the emaciated woman she saw in the mirror and, especially now; she didn't want to be helpless.

Beth's sharp gaze fell on the closed laptop. On a whim, she pulled the chair out and sat down at the desk. Her new identity was on the wood but she brushed it aside, still not prepared to memorise her new life. She opened the laptop and crossed her fingers. There was no password and Beth could have cheered with glee.

It didn't last long as every file she tried to open asked for a fingerprint and password. Beth spotted a tiny blue scanner in the bottom right hand corner and scowled. She had only ever had a password and it was usually so obvious that Maggie or Shawn could guess it in a couple of tries. Beth didn't know enough about Daryl to make that kind of leap. She thought about the man and how he always seemed to have a wall around him whenever they spoke. Beth knew she annoyed him and he did a bad job of hiding it. He was all acid and thorns. She could always judge how mad he was by how his accent would heat and thicken. Beth wondered if he knew that he did that when angry. Picturing his blue eyes made her stomach tight. Intimidation, she told herself and then promptly pushed any fear of Daryl Dixon away.

Beth almost toppled off the chair in shock when she could access the internet. She quickly attempted to open her email accounts but every time sent her to a blocked screen. Beth wanted to growl in frustration. She typed in Facebook with a sinking stomach. Nothing.

But still, it wasn't a completely hopeless situation. She now had a means of information. She opened a news page and greedily devoured the information. Not much had changed, there was still famine, war, the economy was down the toilet, but for Beth it felt like a bloody revelation. She no longer felt so isolated. She felt powerful.

With shaking hands Beth typed in her parents' names. She wanted to see what had been said about their death. She hit search and her mobile buzzed, making her gasp.

_Are you on my computer?_

Beth ignored the message. Nothing relevant came up and Beth could see how common the names were. She refined the search, adding her home town, her own name and her siblings. She pressed search again. Her phone rattled on the wood.

_Seriously, it's set to alert me when it's used without authorisation. _

Beth picked up the phone and lobbed it onto the couch so it couldn't disturb her. Nothing came up about her parents deaths and she bit her nails. Surely her neighbours and friends were beginning to wonder where the Greene family was. Some of the closer ones would have even heard the sirens that night. Beth spared a thought for Jimmy, who would have thought he was her boyfriend until he didn't hear from her for days. Beth knew her phone was probably in some mysterious bunker somewhere, vibrating with each new text from Jimmy.

Next she typed in the Governor and found the jackpot. Her eyes were assaulted with multiple sites and articles and Beth clicked through them until her eyes burned. Eventually she couldn't read anymore but she had only just touched the surface of what was available. Many of the sites just repeated information but Beth accessed every one of them, hoping for some clue that would help her understand what had happened. She thrummed with this new knowledge burning through her veins.

She collected her phone, expecting a bunch of furious messages from Daryl but there was only one.

_Why couldn't you look up porn like a normal teenager?_

Beth laughed and then glared; hating that Daryl had amused her. Settling back down at the computer, she typed one more thing into the search engine.

Daryl Dixon.

She sat back and waited for the response to that.

**AN: Hello everyone, hope you like this chapter, I like many of the elements in it. I'm sorry for the inconsistency of updates at the moment. I have some excuses ranging from the valid to the not very valid at all. I've been working lots recently and erratic hours so I'm pretty tired currently. Also most of Australia is having a little bit of a heat wave. It's hard enough to wear pants, let alone think when it's over forty degrees (Celsius). Finally, I saw the desolation of Smaug and my muse has been hijacked by Thranduil. I'm wrestling it back into Dixon territory but god help me, the cow has a thing for sullen, damaged men. Anyway, review because reviews are wonderful balm to my frazzled brain. **


	10. Chapter 10

Daryl had to hand it to Beth, she had balls. His eyes had narrowed at the small screen of his phone when he'd seen his name typed into the search engine. He was pretty sure she wouldn't find anything of interest there but that small act of defiance had made him furious and..._ Impressed_?

He'd had to shove the phone away because Merle was giving him a strange look and the last thing he wanted was his brother taking a closer look at his personal life. He was confident that he could sell the idea he had a girlfriend to most others but Merle could usually smell bullshit a mile off and he'd know a girlfriend was out of character for Daryl. As far as Daryl could tell, Karen hadn't mentioned Beth to anyone else but he knew that couldn't last and he'd actually have to put some effort into making this cover story convincing. For some reason that fact settled in his stomach like a lump of coal, making him feel cold dread.

In the days that had followed Beth's discovery of his computer, Daryl had to turn off the alert system in his phone. She spent hours on the damned thing now. He'd lost count of the times he'd jerked awake at four in the morning to hear the swift tapping of laptop keys.

The first time Daryl had groggily asked, "the fuck you doin'?"

"Looking for information," Beth replied, not even looking at him. The glow from the screen was the only light in the room and it was giving her a ghostly hue. Daryl had groaned, rolled off the couch and pressed the laptop shut with the pads of his fingers.

"Go to bed," he'd instructed curtly. She had simmered at him, resenting being sent to her room like a misbehaving child. Daryl hadn't given a shit. Far as he was concerned, she was.

This routine repeated itself for a few nights but one night Daryl had woken up by the familiar sounds of Beth on the laptop and something else. Beth was sniffing and wiping her eyes. Daryl chanced a stealthy peak at what she was looking at and he saw she was looking at an article from the Senoia local paper that had a picture of the Greene patriarch and his wife. Beth was crying quietly and Daryl's chest got inexplicably tight.

He lay there for a few minutes, feigning sleep until the sounds of her tearing had desisted. Then he got to his feet.

"I'm almost done," Beth said quickly, acquainted with their dance by now. She swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand

Daryl just shook his head and said, "have at it." He went to his bedroom and collapsed into his own bed. His muscles rejoiced as his body sunk into the mattress. Even the new smell of cinnamon and honey couldn't deter from his satisfaction at being able to sleep in his own bed. That became their new routine. Daryl would sleep on the couch until Beth gave into insomnia and returned to the computer and then they'd swap.

Daryl knew Beth was obsessing over trying to find out all she could on the Governor but it was giving her something to do. When Daryl would get out of bed in the morning, Beth would still be there, eyes rimmed red from lack of sleep and hair messily pulled back away from her face.

Neither of them would acknowledge the other and Daryl would start the coffee. For once he had coffee in the house. He'd deposit one mug in front of Beth, remembering how much sugar she liked (too much) and how much milk she'd take. Then he'd take his own cup into the bathroom and start getting ready for the day. This was all done without saying a word.

Some time while he was out at work, Beth must have been sleeping and showering because by the time he finished work he usually had a text on his phone asking for more things from the grocery store. That was the other thing Beth Greene did. When she wasn't thoroughly scouring the internet for even the smallest clue that would help her understand the monster that murdered her parents, she was cooking.

Every night she'd make something for dinner and Daryl found himself usually in the kitchen watching. It was like stepping into the kitchen made her a different person. She became calmer and her eyes lost that frenetic gleam that he'd see over the computer. He was almost fascinated to watch this shift in her as she moved with ease around his space. Who was he kidding? The kitchen was her domain now. And as much as he liked having a home cooked meal in the evenings, his house was filling up with other things. He had more muffins, cakes and biscuits than he knew what to do with. Daryl had actually put on weight. It was when he realised her calmness in this room was a deception. It was another obsession, something to take her mind off the boredom and helplessness she was feeling.

Daryl would have to do something to restore balance to the girl, she was running in extremes. From eerie calm to the wired and twitchy. He started small and tried to influence her in ways that would be seen as innocuous. He didn't want his involvement to be blatant, it was already unwilling. DVDs found their way into the apartment as did books and half the time the coffee he started was actually decafe. Daryl couldn't guess what her personal tastes might run to but at least it was something. When they remained untouched, Daryl realised he'd have to do something more significant and cursed. He didn't want to wade into this emotional minefield but he had no choice. If he didn't intervene, he'd be triple his size and any day now he half expected Beth to be hanging from the rafters by her feet like some sort of deranged, human shaped bat.

Daryl was distracted as he waited for Martinez to finish up a meeting with some local pimp. He wasn't a threat, Martinez would be more than capable of handling the situation on his own if the need arose, and Daryl was there mostly for decoration.

The meeting wrapped up and they were walking back to their bikes when Martinez stopped him. "Where the fuck is your head at, man?"

Daryl's lips sealed into a thin line. He deserved to be berated. His preoccupation with Beth was making him bad at his job. Both of them.

"If you tell me it has something to do with a girl, I'm gonna slap you," Martinez declared threateningly. So Karen had told her husband about Beth. Daryl couldn't very well confess that it _was_ a girl on his mind, just not the way Martinez thought it was.

"I got a bad feeling about the Angels," Daryl told Martinez, thinking on his feet. "They're being too damn quiet an' it's got me worried for what's gonna go down when we get that order in next week."

Martinez's anger dissipated a little. He was still glaring at Daryl but he looked less likely to punch him in the gut now.

"Maybe they're just being sensible," Martinez said with a shrug.

Daryl snorted and shook his head, remembering the hours long strategy meeting that Martinez had kept them all at. "You don't believe that horseshit."

"No but I know I got a job to do and sulking won't make our business any easier. What'll happen will happen." Martinez wasn't the type of person who believed in fate or destiny but it sounded very much like he was saying that Daryl was over thinking the situation.

Daryl frowned but didn't press the issue. He'd narrowly avoided a dressing down over acting like a moody teenager.

Martinez' features shifted and a cheeky grin crossed his face. "But you do have a girlfriend."

Daryl groaned. "I knew Karen wouldn't be able to resist telling you."

"She's happy for you, she wants to know if you're bringing her to my birthday."

Daryl squinted at the other man. "We end up gossiping about girls, _I'll_ be the one to slap you."

Martinez chuckled and held his hands up in the air. "Alright, I'll leave the prying for Karen. But you need to focus. Do what you gotta do and sort your shit out!" It was both a friendly suggestion and a command from his superior. Daryl was getting real sick of having his life dictated by other people but he kept a lid on his temper and nodded. Martinez was right; his attention couldn't be so divided in the coming week, not with such a dangerous rendezvous planned.

When he got a spare minute to himself, Daryl found a quiet spot and punched a number into his cell. It wasn't a saved number but he knew it by heart now.

"Grimes," was the curt one word answer.

"Rick, its Daryl."

"What's wrong, is Beth alright?"

It was all about fucking Beth today and Daryl couldn't even get mad because it was accurate.

"She's baking!"

"She's what?" Rick didn't sound as concerned anymore, just perplexed.

"She won't stop baking; every surface in my damned apartment is covered in shit."

There was a weary sigh. "What are you telling me for?" Rick's question was barely wrapped in patience.

"She's going crazy up there. I need permission to take her out of the house."

...

Daryl thought he was so clever changing the coffee every couple of days but Beth could taste the difference. She knew when the caffeine wasn't in her body. She had never liked coffee much before but now she'd come to crave her morning hit, feeling it race through her body like little sparks.

It wasn't a problem; she would just wait until Daryl left for the day and make a new pot. Her eyes always stung these days from not getting enough sleep and spending long hours staring solely at the artificial light of the computer. But she couldn't bring herself not to constantly sift through the information.

She wasn't stupid, she knew Daryl was trying to lure her away from the computer with the not so subtle arrival of books and movies but Beth couldn't tear herself away even though she knew she had exhausted all the sources she could personally access.

When she'd read almost everything she could find on the Governor she had started reading journals on international terror cells and world events. When she was all up to date on those issues, she started looking at gun management and martial arts. Beth wanted to be able to defend herself and reading about it was a close second. When Beth realised she was watching youtube videos of cats jumping, she slumped back in her seat.

She'd officially reached a new low. There was nothing left to search. She was smart and had spent hour after hour ingesting all these facts. Sure she could watch the movies or read the books but that seemed disrespectful. Enjoying herself or having a good time was flippant in light of all that had happened. In retrospect, Beth wished she had kept her head in the aftermath of her parents' death. If she'd been fired up like Shawn, maybe they would have paired her with someone who had an active role in the search for the Governor instead of the person with the least connections to the situation. Thinking about her siblings gave her that familiar hollow feeling and she absently wandered into the kitchen and snatched up a muffin. She picked at it half heartedly but made herself finish it. Beth's appetite was inconsistent but she still ate regularly because that's what healthy, well adjusted people did.

Beth finished the muffin, barely tasting it, before returning to the desk and staring at the laptop, fingers hovering uncertainly over the keys. She was saved from frantically coming up with a new topic to research because the door opened.

Beth jumped and looked around wildly. She hadn't expected Daryl back for ages but a quick look made her realise it was actually late, evening had settled in the apartment. Daryl looked at the laptop and she saw a flicker of something deep in those steely blue eyes. She wasn't sure if it was concern but she knew her actions had caught his attention. Whether she appreciated the scrutiny was another thing entirely.

The youtube cat video was still displayed and Beth wanted to shrivel with embarrassment as Daryl's cool eyes swept over the situation. He leaned over her, arm brushing her shoulder for a second, and pushed the laptop down. The whir of the machine continued for a few seconds and then silenced. Deprived of the glow from the screen, Beth could see it was darker than she thought.

"Get up, we're going for a walk," Daryl instructed her.

It was so unexpected that Beth could only blink at him. "I can't," Beth stammered.

Daryl's expression turned rueful. "The cat will be there when you get back."

"No," Beth clarified, blushing red. "I mean, I'm not allowed, remember?" She waved the hand with the bracelet for emphasis. Daryl's eyes followed the swing of her wrist before settling back on her face. It was disconcerting and Beth sat up straighter.

"We're gonna try something out. We ain't gonna go far, there's nobody around and I'll be with you every step of the way."

Beth looked at the still open door. For so many days, she longed for the freedom to go outside and now that she was presented with the opportunity, she was scared. Her heart was racing. It wasn't safe out there. Not anymore. Daryl's gaze hadn't wavered and for some reason she didn't want to tell him the real reason she was apprehensive. He already thought she was weak and strange.

Beth got to her feet unsteadily and clasped her hands to disguise the fact they were shaking. "Alright," Beth agreed quietly.

If Daryl sensed her reticence, he kept it to himself. He walked out the door and gesturing for her to follow. The movement lifted his shirt just slightly and Beth caught a glimpse of a gun kept at the small of his back. Beth didn't think that Daryl would hesitate to use it. Inhaling deeply, she followed him.

After all her fear upstairs, stepping outside was anticlimactic. She took her first step out on to the pavement and flinched, half scared that it was cruel joke on Daryl's part and he was about to drag her back inside. Daryl was merely shifting from foot to foot impatiently. He looked just as uncomfortable as she felt, which went miles towards reassuring her.

"Which way we going?" Beth eventually asked.

"I figured we could just go a couple of blocks, see how that goes," Daryl suggested. His confidence in the apartment had vanished on the street. He put his hands in his pockets and waited.

Beth forced a shaky smile. "Sounds good."

They walked in silence and Beth took the time just to look around. The air was like syrup on her skin, the humidity amplified by the encroaching night. There were still the colours of sunset on the very edge of the horizon, still too early to see stars yet. In normal circumstances Beth would have lamented the lack of a breeze but after too long inside, it felt perfect just as it was.

The quiet was too strained to feel companionable. "Did you have a good day at work?" Beth asked.

Daryl took so long answering that she started to regret asking. Daryl shrugged his shoulders eventually and mumbled, "S'ok."

"Another thing I can't know?" Beth was surprised how bitter she sounded.

Daryl shot her a sidelong glance. "Yeah, it ain't for you to know."

Beth shucked her eyes downwards, feeling a blush creeping up her neck and scolding herself internally for being so stupid as to think they might be able to have a conversation.

"There is some dangerous shit going on at the moment. It's not very pleasant." Daryl looked just as staggered as Beth was that he had shared with her.

"That doesn't sound good," Beth contributed hesitatingly.

Daryl chuckled and the sound was unexpected and genuine. Beth liked it.

"Yeah you could say that," he agreed, running a hand through his hair.

"Why do you do it?" Beth asked abruptly. "Is it just for your brother?"

Daryl's gaze sharpened into a glare. "You don't know anything 'bout it."

Beth bit her lip, fear flaring in her stomach. He'd been gruff with before but she'd never heard the coldness he used now. She wasn't aware she had recoiled back from him until Daryl's eyes widened a fraction and she saw colour creep up his neck.

"Don't look at me like that, wasn't gonna hurt you."

He felt bad for scaring her, that much was obvious, but that his response was to scold her irked Beth.

"How'm I supposed to know that?" Beth demanded. "I only just met you and my whole life is in your hands."

Daryl blanched, looking very much like she had physically hit him. He frowned at her, his voice dropping to a low growl. "I ain't never laid a hand on a woman, not gonna start now just because she doesn't know when to mind her business."

They had stopped walking and were facing each other awkwardly, having this confrontation on a nearly deserted street. Daryl was barely managing to conceal his anger, battling it into a less frightening simmer. Beth was staring right back though her stare was somewhat more contemplative.

"You're right, it's not my business," she offered, watching his reaction closely and standing very still. In some respects Daryl reminded her of a wild animal, predisposed to consider everything a threat until he knew better.

He twitched his shoulders. "I shouldn't bark at you." It wasn't exactly an apology but it was better than nothing.

Beth nodded and started walking again. There was a tiny lapse and then Daryl was at her side again, eyes back to scanning the area for danger, instead of trying to unnerve her.

"I just... don't like talkin' about my brother," Daryl said unexpectedly. To Beth he actually sounded timid and uncertain. His statement roused Beth's curiosity but she didn't push. Daryl was still too mistrustful of her to share anything as personal as the situation with his brother. Beth could already tell that it was complicated and he had mixed feelings where he was concerned.

"Alright," Beth acknowledged simply.

"How's your research going?" Daryl asked in a heavy handed attempt to change the subject. Beth quirked an eyebrow at the effort but he didn't see.

She released an extended sigh. "I think I've found all I can."

Daryl rubbed the back of his neck. "I can talk to Rick, Agent Grimes, about maybe scrounging up a file or two 'bout him. Won't be anything too important, mind. But it'll still be somethin'."

If Beth knew Daryl better, she might have hugged him for the genuine offer. But she had a suspicion he was likely to try and take her arms off if she had.

"That would be nice," Beth said breathlessly. Daryl merely grunted and forsook the conversation entirely from that point on. Beth was thrown. Was it possible that Agent Daryl Dixon might actually be a nice person somewhere under all the rough surfaces and sharp edges?

**AN: I've started writing longer chapters because who needs sleep. I intended to update yesterday but, I wrote a Thranduil one-shot to get it out of my system. If you're hobbit inclined, please check it out. So Daryl and Beth are starting to speak the same language. And Daryl is starting to care. He hides it well but we all know, don't we guys. Review, if you would be so kind.**


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